


Left Behind

by sleepymccoy



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, bones gets lonely, descriptions of getting hurt, descriptions of sexy times later, he is a sad lonely duck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-18 13:57:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 37,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7317994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymccoy/pseuds/sleepymccoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An away mission gone wrong leaves McCoy stranded on a planet with little to no hope for rescue. He grudgingly accepts his fate and begins recording his log entries. Unbeknown to him, the Enterprise above is receiving his communications but are unable to respond. His boyfriend of a few months, Spock, is having a particularly hard time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“McCoy to Enterprise, come in.” 

 

McCoy sat at the console of the semi crushed shuttle pod, desperately trying to get the machine to connect. All the lights were forgivingly green, meaning he should be getting through. “Dammit, what's going on?” he muttered to himself through gritted teeth. He felt his hands shaking as he tried desperately, desperately to push the machine to it's limits. 

 

“McCoy to Enterprise, do you read me?” He repeated. “Enterprise, please respond, this is Doctor McCoy on KN55-2. Do you copy?” he was beginning to grow worried that he wouldn't get through to them. He was already nearing panic from being along on this planet, add to that no communication abilities, and his brain could just panic into a short circuit. He wouldn't be left here, not for long. Surely. 

 

He hit the table angrily. “Come on boys, you left me behind the least you could do is apologise!” he shouted. He regretted it immediately. The sensors couldn't tell if his signal was getting through to the Enterprise, but they were definitely not picking up a damn thing in return. At least he knew the Enterprise wouldn't leave, he could trust them to stick around and save him. A day or two at most. If they weren't on their way back down already, having noticed his absence. 

 

“McCoy to Enterprise, come in please.” A few more seconds of silence passed. “Enterprise,” McCoy said sadly. 

 

“Jim,” he choked out. He leant back dejectedly. How the fuck was he going to handle this. He squashed down his panic and quickly turned off the transmission to take a moment to freak out. And freak out he did, feeling his eyes widen as he heaved, realising he may well be stuck here, alone, for the immediate future.

 

After a few moments of self pity and fear, his stomach told him the first step.

 

He turned his communicator back on and said, “Enterprise, this is McCoy. I'm going to set up an automatic receiver cos I'm bloody hungry and need to go find a tree to gnaw on.” McCoy quickly punched in the sequence to leave the machine on and left, on weak and shaking legs, to get some air and food. 

 

\----------

  
  


“Captain!” Uhura called. Before receiving a response she immediately patched the poor quality transmission through to the Bridge's overhead speakers. 

 

“Dammit, what's going on?” McCoy’s angry muttering filled the room. Everyone stilled immediately as Jim looked excitedly over at Spock. _He's alive_   Jim mouthed at the stiff faced Vulcan. Spock nodded sharply at him in response.

 

“McCoy to Enterprise, do you read me?” 

 

“Uhura, respond!” Jim called. 

 

“I have been attempting to, Captain, I don’t think he can hear me,” Uhura said quickly between calling Doctor McCoy’s name. 

 

“Enterprise, please respond, this is Doctor McCoy on KN55-2. Do you copy?” 

 

“Spock, boost our signal, patch it through anything, let’s try and get contact,” Jim ordered. Spock started out of his reverie and began diverting power to the communications array.

 

“Come on boys, you left me behind the least you could do is apologise!” McCoy yelled.

 

Jim looked sadly over at Spock with mildly panicked eyes. “Spock…” Jim muttered guiltily.

 

Spock kept swiftly hitting buttons until the last of the spare power was shunted into communications. “Captain, it is not your fault and he is aware of that. He is simply venting, as is his wont,” he said without turning.

 

“McCoy to Enterprise, come in please.” 

 

Jim sat down in his chair, resting his head in his hands. “We’re getting nothing through?” he asked.

 

“Enterprise.” McCoy whispered.

 

“Sorry, Captain,” Uhura said quietly. 

 

The bridge was silent for a moment then, “Jim.” McCoy’s broken sob came through the speaker. Jim slid lower into his seat, desperate for this nightmare to stop.

 

“Captain…” Spock said uselessly.

 

“What exactly is stopping our communication?” Jim asked.

 

“It is the same electromagnetic irregularities we were struggling with earlier, sir,” Spock said quietly, speaking softly as if he were comforting Jim in his misery rather than supplying requested information.

 

McCoy's transmission started up again. “Enterprise, this is McCoy. I'm going to set up an automatic receiver cos I'm bloody hungry and need to go find a tree to gnaw on.”

 

The static background stopped and McCoy was gone. 

 

“Sulu, Spock, how close can we get the Enterprise before we’re sucked down like the shuttle was?” Jim asked.

 

Sulu shook his head. “No much closer, I’m fighting the tug from here, Captain,” he said.

 

“I recommend we stay in a locked orbit with his location to ensure we do not miss a transmission. We can risk moving in closer that way too, as we shall be sure of the atmospheric conditions in position. From there we can begin tests.” Spock walked over to Jim while he spoke. He silently put his hand on Jim’s shoulder as they studied the planet below. 

  
  


\----------

  
  


McCoy returned from his foraging expedition to no contact from above. He opened transmission to have a complain.  “Seriously, guys? Nothing? It's been two hours and all I've got is a fern and a black eye to show for it? You couldn't give me one little ping?” He double checked the system. Definitely nothing.

 

“Ok, so I guess you can't hear me. That makes an unfortunate amount of sense. I'll keep pinging your way every minute or so incase reception clears up. But I guess I'm on my own…” He trailed off briefly. “And I suppose I should treat this as a recording device instead now. So,” He tapped the table as if to enter a different mind set.

 

“Day one on KN33-2. I have a fern for dinner, which has no taste and is yet still incredibly unpleasant. I had to fight a rather large man for it. Luckily my great fighting skill meant I quickly overwhelmed him.” McCoy chuckled to himself. “He’d’ve won but I got lucky. Some hunter horn went off and he scarpered back to that. Not before he got a few hits in though. Medkit had enough on hand to clear up my black eye, so at least I'll look good again in thirty minutes or so. Who knows, I might still pick up here. The red skin doesn’t really do it for me, but I've seen worse looking people on the Enterprise. Talking ‘bout you, Scotty.”

 

After a few moments of silence he spoke in a more muted tone. “I don't really know what to do here. I mean, I'll start foraging properly and find some wood to burn. I've got vitamin pills so I'll be fully nutritioned up, but I still need to eat something solid. Like this god forsaken fern. You know, it’s possible the locals here don't even eat the fern, they might sew with it or paint or something. It's awful.” He clicked off and finished the recording.

 

Hours later McCoy returned to the intercomm. “Still day one, but it's well and truly night now. I kind of hoped you’d’ve already come down here a gotten me by now. I guess it's a bit more difficult than that though. I couldn't sleep. So I've made a short list of which stars might be the Enterprise. There's this little reddish thing making its way slowly around the place. Could be you. Could be a planet though. There's this weird bright white thing sitting stock still right above me. I reckon it's some space debris caught in synchronous orbit though, procedure says you guys gotta spin the other way. There's a few more stars moving at abnormal speeds but really… you're either too far out I can’t see you or you've left. Wouldn’t blame you if you've left, you know. My own damn fault for moving so slowly. Don't feel bad, boys. I'm gonna pretend you're the big white light anyway. Cos that's out of sight less than the little red guy, and that's comforting.

 

“If you've left, please send someone back. I know you know I'm still kicking here, you can register life signs. So yeah, go away and get your specialised equipment, I'll do my part and try and hang on to life down here.”

 

\----------

 

“Captain, could I talk to you?” Spock stopped Jim in the corridor, not whispering his request but lowering his voice so that Jim had to lean in. 

 

Jim looked at him in concern. Spock had been taking McCoy's absence more roughly than he'd expected. “Certainly, there's an empty briefing room just down here.” Jim rested his hand on Spock's arm in comfort and walked him down the corridor.

 

Once they entered Jim turned to Spock and asked him, “What is it Spock?” 

 

Spock took a breath. Jim almost thought he saw his hand tremor before Spock clasped his hands together behind his back. “I believe it is important that you be made aware that I am seeing the Doctor,” Spock said quietly.

 

Jim frowned. That was unexpected. “Seeing him where, Spock? Are you ok?” he asked.

 

Spock winced. “I am healthy, we have been seeing each other for nearly three months now.”

 

Jim started to get worried. His two senior most officers were mad. “Seeing each other? You're both hallucinating?”

 

Spock closed his eyes in either prayer or mortification, Jim could never tell. “Ah, no,” Spock said. He opened his eyes. “My apologies, Captain, I should have been more succinct. The Doctor and I are dating,” he said plainly.

 

Jim froze, reevaluating the situation. “I think you're confused, Spock,” He said slowly. “Dating means that you have… romantic dinners and, usually, sex and, well, you have to get along!”

 

Spock sighed. “Well, in the past three months we’ve fulfilled your requirements to constitute as dating many times over,” he said as if he were discussing the day's reports or a mildly curious mould from his lab. Jim, meanwhile, could feel his brain melting.

 

“What?”

 

Spock cleared his throat. “Doctor McCoy is quite gifted at fellatio,” he said.

 

Jim turned slowly and glared at him. Spock’s eyes widened slightly and he suddenly looked like a very scared child. Vulcan child, but still clearly fearing punishment. “Spock!” Jim hissed. Spock snapped to attention. Jim threw his arms open. “What - I…” He gave up on admonishment. “Sit down!” Jim ordered.

 

Spock slunk into a seat by the briefing table. “I shall answer your questions, Captain,” he said, once settled.

 

Jim realised he couldn't think of a single question. He was just in a mixture of shock and mild amusement at this revelation. Of course, he wasn't going to let Spock see the amusement. Let the man suffer for a bit. Oh, but he was suffering already with McCoy being away, so there was no need to draw it out. Perhaps half a minute after Jim sat down he looked up at Spock and smiled. Spock relaxed slightly into his seat and patiently waited for Jim to speak.

 

“Why are you telling me now, when Bones isn't here?” Jim asked at last.

 

Spock nodded. “We intended to tell you together next Wednesday, Sir. However, I am concerned he will allude to inappropriate elements of our relationship in his communications. I request that I be given the power to listen first and remove any unnecessary comments.”

 

Jim rolled his eyes. “Well I'm not sure you're the right person for the job, after telling me he can suck a dick. I'm not gonna be able to wipe that from my brain, Spock,” he said in mock annoyance. As if he hadn't heard Bones giving head time and time again when they roomed together at the Academy.

 

Spock swallowed heavily and looked down at his clutched hands on the table. “Leonard suggested a few weeks ago that a reference to our sex life would be the easiest way to convince you.” Spock glanced at Jim. “He may have been joking. If so, I apologise.”

 

Jim stared at him for a beat then burst out laughing. Bones was managing to mess with them while he was a planet away. Spock relaxed properly and a small smile briefly appeared on his face, before he wiped it away for professionalism. 

 

Jim stopped laughing and, grinning, said, “Alright, well, you can listen to his messages first, but I don't want you editing anything out that isn't blatantly about your… thing, “ he trailed off.

 

“Relationship,” Spock prompted pointedly.

 

“Relationship. Ok, I was actually going to say your _dick_ , but-”

 

“Captain,” Spock interrupted, unimpressed.

 

“Hey!” Jim pointed at him in exaggerated anger. “You said fellatio!”

 

Spock's mouth tightened in annoyance.

 

“My point is,” Jim said, taking pity on Spock. “I want to hear as much of what he's saying as possible. I'll discuss editing more out for the Bridge crew on a case by case deal.”

 

“Thank you, Captain,” Spock said.

 

“And we'll have to tell Uhura, I'm not letting her get slighted by passing communications over to you without an explanation,” Jim said, no room for compromise in his voice.

 

Spock considered this for a moment then nodded his agreement. 

 

Jim cleared his throat and stood up. “Are you happy with him?” he asked as Spock left his chair.

 

Spock raised his eyebrow. “I am Vulcan,” he said. Jim looked at him blankly. “I find him entertaining and challenging. It is a stimulating relationship,” Spock added.

 

Jim smiled. “Well, I'm happy for you,” he said. 

 

“Thank you, Jim.”

  
  
  


\----------

  
  


McCoy lay on the roof of his shuttle and gazed up at the star above him. “Alright, evening two. Still no noise from you silent bastards, which is just plain rude. I spent my morning watching the guys over the river, I figured out that every few hours everyone goes back to the town for, I dunno, food, naps. Maybe it’s religious. Whatever. So during one of those breaks I ran and grabbed some fruit. I feel a little bad about it, but I've already demolished the Prime Directive by getting in a fisticuffs yesterday and saving that kid the day before, so I might as well commit to my delinquency.

 

“I've decided I detest the name KN33 - 2 and am renaming this place Kaneeta because fuck it no one can tell me off. Unless you come and get me, and in that situation I'll be too damn relieved to care.” McCoy sighed and turned off the recorder. After a moment he flicked it back on.

 

“Look, I want you to know that I don't regret this. And it's no one's fault but my own. That child needed my help, and I'm willing to die for my craft, so this is worthwhile.” McCoy smiled up at the star. “I know you'll disagree, Spock, but you're not here to interrupt, so too bad. It was the kinda break that needs a splint immediately. She should be ok, too, as long as she stays off it. I think her mother understood that, she carried her back to their home so I have hope. And that's worth it. If I die here, I died saving a little girl. And that's good.

 

“It’s so dark here, Spock. The atmosphere blocks out most of the stars, and it's just pitch black. I can’t do any kind of foraging at night. There’s no moon, the closest thing to a source of light is the Big Bright Bastard up there. I guess I've just got my evenings to lie here and chat to you. I'll keep my chatter sex free though, just in case StarFleet get a hold of this tape. They don’t need to know how slutty a bottom you are.” McCoy chuckled to himself. “Whoops, sorry,” he said flippantly. “No, but I will behave. 

 

“It's so quiet. I wish you could hear me and respond. I just want someone to talk to me. I'd even take a lecture on the benefits of logic. Wouldn’t take it for long, mind, but it’d make me smile for a moment.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Day three. My stop and shop method with the local townsmen is working, I got enough to last me a week on minimum rations. I don’t want to inconvenience them needlessly. I'm hoping you guys will be back here within a week and will rescue this particular damsel in distress. I'll wear a dress if it helps. I'll have to learn to sew using vines first, but I’ve got nothing but time here. And ferns!

 

“I spent some time today patching up the shuttle craft. It’s essentially airtight now, in case it rains. But it’s so warm at night I don’t really need to stress, I think. Nice temperature here, I got lucky with seasons. My wall fixing effort is commendable. When I get back to to you guys I'm definitely redoing my quarters to look like a crashed shuttle with bark for one wall. Would you be ok with that, dear? You don't get a say in it anyway. My room. Oh, but you’d play dirty. I bet you’d turn your room up to Vulcan temps just to make a point. You bitch. I miss you.

 

“I'm looking up at you right now, Spock. Assuming your the bright star. I'm recording these things up here, did I mention? I extended the cord and figured out a way to lie on the roof and talk to you. Ah, day four by the way. Today was fine, I guess. Same old, look for alternative food so that I stop pillaging. I'm starting to worry about my water source, cos I only have so much here and I don’t know if the rivers safe to drink from. I’ve got samples from various spots nearby testing downstairs, I'll know in the morning if I'll die of thirst.

 

“Hey Spock, d'you remember that time you tried to show me that astronomical chart? Well, turns out I was paying attention, despite how good your dick tastes. That was mighty distracting. I've been looking at the snaps we took before coming down here. They're a bit damaged, but I've managed to figure out what most of these stars are. Side note on that, we really need to come up with some better names, CP1102 is just not memorable. And the red bastard is a planet, the one we've oh so inventively named KN55 - 3. I'm judging Star Fleet for that name. But this big bright bastard staring down at me isn't on the charts. I suppose it could be part of the atmosphere and is actually quite close. But this does also support my personal little Enterprise theory. Hey there everyone. This ones to you.” The recording ended with the sound of McCoy having a drink of water.

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Day five. I'm good for water, don't worry,” McCoy said shortly. He sighed greatly and a thunk could be heard through the recording as his head hit the ground in defeat.

 

“The, ah, the river is fast enough to wash out most issues, and the filters in the pod do the rest. I'll want to get checked for parasites when I'm back though. If I'm back. What could possibly be taking you this long?

 

“Nurse Chapel, I have been considering the med bay layout. I think if we put a few emergency fold out beds in the walls of the surgery we could use them in situations such as minor ship wide illnesses or in sickbay quarantine. I'd need to see the wiring details in the surgery walls to find a few places to put a bed, but I think it could help out. Because you remember that flu type thing a few months ago? The one that gave everyone green eyes. A few extra beds would've been vastly more useful than the surgery. Just look into it for me.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Day six,” McCoy shouted over the top of the wind. “The weather changed today. Gale winds and rain. Fucking freezing. Tore the makeshift wall off and flung all the food I wasn't holding at the time into the air. It’s gone. I'm not in the pod right now, it’s protecting me from the wind. A bit. I'm sitting on the ground next to it. I’ve got a few fruits left, enough to get me through the night, but if this storm lasts more than a day I'll be going hungry. I'm not thirsty anymore, although God knows what's in this rainwater. Definitely doing a parasite check.” 

 

A few hours later the transmission started up again. “Hey,” McCoy whispered, his mouth very close to the receiver. His teeth could be heard chattering. “I keep imagining you're here, Spock. With your internal furnace. I could really go for that warmth right now. But so I decided to talk to you, gotta keep my self conscious somehow. Ok, something heated. A warm memory. 

 

“D'you remember when you'd had that awful day? And you got back to your quarters, where I was oh so generously waiting with a blindfold, and completely ignored me for an hour. That was surreal for me. I mean, there I am half worked up, brainstorming every which way I could use a blindfold to make you a shivering mess, and you got naked. I thought, hell, this is going well. Then you turned the thermostat up. I was onboard, that seemed alright. Unusual, but I figured you were just keen to stay naked. Then you got the kettle going, grabbed a book, lit some incense and sat down facing away. Fucking bizarre, Spock.

 

“Took me days to figure out what you were doing. I finally checked which book you'd picked up and it was full of poetry in old Vulcan. We never discussed it again, but you were pretending you were on Vulcan, weren't you? So hot you're more comfortable naked. Tea, incense, vulcan script. 

 

“I was thinking, you should record the ambient sounds on Vulcan next time you're there, if it's that comforting. You can feed it through the speakers and really get back to your roots. I could buy you a sandbox to sit in, too.” McCoy chuckled weakly then sighed. “I wish I had a place as calming as that. I know it wasn't all roses and kisses for you when you grew up, but atleast you still appreciate it. The only good thing about home for me is Jo. I had a good childhood, Father and I would go fishing or for the odd stroll. But I can't think of them very well now. God, I can't think about it at all. You guys oughta leave me down here. I'm going to try to sleep.”

  
  


\---------

  
  


“Day seven. It’s the middle of the day right now. The sun’s back, which is wonderful. I feel like shit. I set off once things calmed down this morning to get some more food, but didn’t get a hundred meters before doubling over. I’ve been sick for hours. I think my body’s thrown up enough internal organs now and I'm calming down, but I'm exhausted. I don’t think I'm going to make it out of the shuttle today. Still one wall short. I'm gonna go stew in my misery.” He clicked off.

 

“Still day seven. Spock, you won’t believe what just happened. You remember that girl I helped out? The one that landed me here for the rest of my short life? Her brother (I think brother, they’re all bright red, I struggle to tell them apart) came by this evening. He gave me some breadish type thing and said some gibberish. I gather he was thanking me. He had a few things to say about my missing wall, but I couldn’t figure it out. He also kept hitting things eleven times. Might be a cultural thing, who knows. This bread tastes like tree, but that's fine by me. I was fucking starving. And he's given me a fair bit. Not enough to last me, so I'll be grabbing some more fruit tomorrow. I'm so touched. Spock, you wouldn’t be able to handle my emotional ass right now. I've been swinging highs and lows all damn day.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Day eight. Fixed the wall, pinched some fruit, I am a wilderness surviving machine! Jim wouldn’t have done better. Actually, Jim would probably have managed to become a god by mistake. Again. I’m just some freaky hermit to these guys, I bet.

 

“So, I was thinking I could make this place a whole lot more hospitable if I had some brew with me. Scotty, I'm not sure if you'd be proud or dismayed at my effort here. I've set up a kind of distillery using a couple of broken bits of ship. It's fairly makeshift, but it should work. I'm using that trick you taught me where you mix vacuums, heat and a few extra columns to speed it up. I reckon I'll be drinking something disgusting but alcoholic in just a couple of nights. That is assuming the nuts I found have yeast. I'm fairly confident, they reacted like yeast when I smushed them up and threw a few compounds at them. 

 

“It sounds pretty terrible, doesn't it? Well, I hit a pretty solid low during the other night, with the storm, and this is just about the best project I could think of. 

 

“I'm exhausted, so I'm heading to sleep now. I hope you're getting enough rest, Spock.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Day nine. Got attacked by a bird. I'm in recovery mode. I'll talk later.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Day ten. Well, it took some effort but I managed to remove the talons from my side. That bird was fucking massive. But I think I might have killed it in the struggle, so I'm gonna head back to the clearing in the morning and see if there’s anything to eat. I got blood all over the shuttle though, which could be a problem with attracting other predators. I'll have to clean tomorrow. I hope I'm up to it.

 

“Remember how we spent that night in the Observatory? Watching the stars drift by. I hate space, Spock. Space does shit like this to me. But you were beautiful that night. I mean, you always are, but you were utterly breathtaking then. That was very early on, I remember being so, so nervous. 

 

“Possibly the most bizarre way I've ever been asked out was you, dear. I stand by that dinner was not a date, you did not make that clear and I'd've behaved very differently if I’d thought it was a date. I'd've picked a few less fights and complimented you a few times. And I probably wouldn't have freaked out quite so much when you kissed me. Communication is key, darlin’.

 

“That Observatory was a damn good choice for our first proper date. You know I wanted to kiss you the whole time? I just couldn't pluck up the courage. S’why I was so quiet all night, I kept building up to a kiss then backing off. You're far braver than me, there. I bet you wouldn't be as scared as I am here. I really don't want to die here, Spock.”

  


\----------

  
  


“Day twelve. Didn’t record anything last night because, well, I wasn’t up to it. And this isn’t exactly real time, so what do you care? Honestly, I got piss drunk off my terrible moonshine and cried a bit. It wasn't fun. I've disassembled the brewery. 

 

“I got the bird and cooked it. It tastes terrible. It was also shamefully small, I can’t believe that knocked me on my back for two days. The only decent thing I've eaten here is the nut bread. All the fruits taste like lemon, I’m very tired of lemon and my mouth hurts. I cleaned most of the place up today, used a few too many disinfectant wipes. Should be alright, though. My shirt is torn to shreds, it's ridiculous. I hope there are no more storms, I don’t know if I'll survive that.

 

“Spock, your voice has started up in my head. It'd be annoying if I didn't miss you so damn much. But seriously, I was trying to figure out what to use to bandage myself up and I feel like I ended up listening to you, even thought it was definitely my subconscious. I used my good friend the fern, by the way. I really never thought we'd get to a point like this. I thought our relationship would crash and burn within the first week, to be perfectly honest. But you just kept surprising me, darling. You barely take offence when we fight and don't hold a grudge. You keep forgiving me my insults and trespasses. You voluntarily come and see me, I never expected that. I really thought I'd just be tagging along beside you, pitifully taking any opportunity to be in your presence. And that'd probably be enough for me most of the time. But this. What we've figured out between us. It's amazing, Spock. I…” McCoy paused and let out a hollow laugh. He had wanted to say _I love you_ , but if was going to do that, it would be in person. “I really can't wait to see you, darling.”

 

 

 

\----------

  
  


“Thirteen. D’you remember that night you taught me some Vulcan? I barely remember any of it. But I remember ashayam. And pla-kur. Youre such a hopeless romantic, darling. Pla-kur. It's just blue, right? I should've asked about one for you. What's green in Vulcan? If I ever see you again I'll have to ask.” 

 

McCoy shifted, the rustling fabric and his pained grunts audible. “You know what I've just realied? Tomorrow marks two weeks spent here. Are the hours the same? The days feel pretty long, but they feel pretty long on the ship too. Either way, that two week marker’s gotta be approaching. And that's when you leave. I hope you send back another rescue ship. If you get this, tell Jim I forgive him. I've seen him make these decisions before, and I don't want him punishing himself for this. I forgive you too, Spock. If I die here I don't want you to mourn alone. Talk to Jim. Find someone who pulls a few emotions out of you. You'll be better for it. Don't die alone like me, Spock.”

  
  


\----------

  
  


“Fourteen. Well, your star's still here. So either the days here are shorter and it's not yet been two weeks or that star isn't you. Or you've stuck around to stay with me, but really, that'd be silly. We nearly got court martialed last time we tried that trick. When it hits two weeks just go away. It'll be nice to know I wasn't talking to a space rock the whole damn time.

 

“I don't know how much longer I can do this.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bones has been alone and out of contact for more than a fortnight. I didn't expect to have to write a new chapter summary and am unprepared??

Spock sat at the conn, with his communication piece in his ear, waiting for McCoy to begin his nightly broadcast. It had quickly become the highlight of his day, even when McCoy barely sent anything it lifted his spirits exponentially. He was always relieved that Jim had granted him first rights to listen to McCoy, because often his messages required some editing.

 

“Fifteen. Hey there you Big Bright Bastard.” McCoy’s voice filled Spock’s ears and Spock felt the tension seep out of him. 

 

“I guess you're not the Enterprise, then. I really wanted you to be. Alright, look, this has the possibility of crushing all remaining hope, but I can't not ask. I saw some kids playing around with long distance communication today. Smoke signals. So...”

 

Spock leant forward, listening closely.

 

“If you can hear me, move the ship. Just pick a direction and move.”

 

“Mr. Sulu,” Spock said suddenly. Sulu started, turning around. “Move the ship, forward, fast as you’re comfortable.” 

 

Sulu obeyed, moving them quickly forward for seven seconds until Spock told him to stop.

 

McCoy sighed. “No, of cou-” he stopped speaking suddenly. Spock realised he was clutching the armrest and relaxed his grip slowly.

 

“Holy fuck.” McCoy sounded truly shocked. “Ok wait, wait. Do it again. Back to center and out again.”

 

“Mr. Sulu, go back to where we started for a moment, then return to this position,” Spock ordered. Sulu did so without question. While they were in transit Spock paged Jim to the Bridge and transferred McCoy’s message from his earpiece to the Bridge speakers. 

 

McCoy’s loud, relieved laughter filled the room. Spock found himself battling a smile at the sound. “Spock!” McCoy called out. “Go the other way.”

 

“You heard the man, Mr. Sulu. About turn, please,” Spock said. Sulu grinned and spun the ship about.

 

McCoy was silent for a long moment. “Oh my God, it's you. I - I'll be right back.” He shut off communications quickly.

 

Spock sat up sharply, a moment of panic hitting him. He squashed it down, relegating it to a place where he could deal with it later. While they tensely waited for McCoy to return, Jim came sprinting into the Bridge.

 

“Are we talking?” Jim asked quickly.

 

Spock stood up, relinquishing command. “Currently, no. He is taking a moment for his emotions, I believe.”

 

Jim chuckled. “Must be looking up if you’re joking, Spock,” he said happily, sitting down.

 

McCoy clicked back into contact. “So you could hear me the whole time, huh?” he asked, sounding a tad teary. He paused waiting for a response. “Ok, sorry, first direction means yes, second means no. Say yes.”

 

“Say yes, Mr. Sulu,” Jim said in mild amusement. 

 

Spock raised an entertained eyebrow. Jim smiled sadly at him and put a hand out, resting it on Spock’s forearm in comfort. 

 

Sulu reached the point that signified yes.

 

“Ok, yeah, I got that. You could hear me the whole time?” McCoy asked hesitantly.

 

“Do we say yes?” Jim asked, “Because we didn't hear everything he said.”

 

“Perhaps saying yes and no would be best,” Spock suggested. 

 

Jim ordered Sulu to do a quick loop through their yes and no points. The Bridge stayed silent while he did so.

 

“Maybe?” Bones asked in annoyance. “Ok, so you heard some of me, or it's complicated. Whatever.” He sighed. “First of all, if you heard me say anything unprofessional, I was joking and I apologise. Outright lies.”

 

Jim and Uhura turned and smirked at Spock. Spock diligently ignored them. 

 

‘Also,” McCoy continued, “I'll give y’all a quick recap. I've eaten a lot of lemons and tree. I got a water supply. Got hit by a storm, was sick for a while. Locals gave me some bread, which was an amazing moment, Spock, I can't wait to tell you about him. Aah, got attacked by a bird. My lung collapsed (briefly) and my ribs might just be bruised but I'm honestly confident they're broken. Most of my equipment was knocked out in the storm, so I can't do anything more for myself. That's about it.

 

“D’you have a plan to get me back?” McCoy  asked after a beat.

 

Jim turned silently to Spock.

 

“Captain, be honest. He can handle it,” Spock said after a moment of consideration.

 

Jim thought for a second. “Are you sure? It'd be pretty rough down there.”

 

“I have faith in his strength of character.” 

 

Jim nodded. “Ok then, Spock. Mr. Sulu, say no.”

 

They were halfway to the ‘no’ position when McCoy's transmission broke off.

  
  


\----------

 

McCoy paused. “D'you have a plan to get me back?” he asked with false bravado. He stared closely at the pin prick of light as it remained stationary. Probably conferring to ensure they had a consensus on the ship. Why Jim couldn't just answer and end the torment he didn't know.

 

The light began to move toward the ‘no’ position. As soon as he was sure of the answer McCoy turned off his communicator so that they wouldn't hear him swear. Then he kept it off so that they wouldn't hear him choke out an empty sob. But he kept a hold of himself, aware that he couldn't fairly keep them waiting on his response. 

 

He took one last breath. Then another. Then turned his communicator on and said loudly, “Ok, no problem.”

 

The ship moved slowly back to center position. McCoy liked to imagine it whimpering back in shame at their high incompetence. How d'you lose a CMO?

 

He let out a shaky sigh, intending to change the subject. “Are you gonna stick around for a while?” He asked. Ok, not a huge change of subject, but at least he'd said something. 

 

Yes, the ship said.

 

“How long, a week?” McCoy asked, fully aware they'd already overstayed their legally allotted time

 

Yes. Center. Yes.

 

“Two yeses there?” McCoy laughed at them. “D'you have any intention of leaving me here?” he asked. 

 

No.

 

“What if I die?”

 

Center.

 

McCoy smiled despite himself. “Not gonna dignify me with a response there?” He paused for a moment. “I gotta be honest, that does bring me some comfort. Having you guys here. Thanks for… that.”

 

McCoy lay down and huffed out a quick laugh. “Now that I've got you, I don't know what to say. I assume I'm talking to Jim, yeah?”

 

Yes

 

“Is Spock there with you?

 

Yes

 

McCoy grinned. He couldn't help it. “Hi you two,” he said simply. 

 

Yes 

 

“Bunch of saps,” he said happily. “Is everyone alright up there?”

 

Yes

 

“Good.” McCoy yawned. He was getting extremely tired but didn't want to sleep yet, he was overjoyed at the communication. “Guys, I'm not in great condition here, I'm going to go to sleep. You'll still be around tomorrow?” he asked, telling himself off for sounding so pitiful. 

 

Yes

 

“Ok, then. Jim, Spock, I wanna talk to you both tomorrow. Privately. Can that be arranged?”

 

Yes

 

“Good.” He was interrupted by another yawn. “Alright, talk then. Sweet dreams, everyone!” He flicked his communicator and watched the ship say Yes to him. It took another yawn to force him off the roof and to bed.

  
  


\-----------

  
  


“Good evening, ladies and gents. Tonight is the sixteenth night of my solitary punishment. I hope everyone's well?” 

 

Yes

 

“Well, not much I could do anyway, is there? I'd like to have a chat with Jim, if you don't mind?”

 

Yes

 

“We're talking privately?”

 

Yes

 

“Jim, hi. You know what I'm going to say, but I'm gonna say it anyway, mind. This isn't your fault. Not in the least. Really. You gave the away team plenty of warning that we had to get to high ground stat, I didn't listen. There was a hurt kid and you know that in that situation I'm always gonna help the injured. Nothing against you as a Captain, it's how I am. I knew your order was important, and that disobeying would likely result in a terrible time for me, but I made my decision. And now I guess I'm living with it. And so are you. Sorry about that.”

 

Yes

 

“Is that  _yes you should be sorry_ or _yes you're sorry and we forgive you_ ? Say yes for the first and no for the second.”

 

Yes

 

“Bastard. Fair enough, really. But Jim, if you could see me… I'm paying for it. This has been a serious learning experience.” McCoy paused and took a deep breath. “So I'm assuming the weakening in the electromagnetic shenanigans was shorter than we expected, that's why I'm stuck?”

 

Yes

 

“Any sign of them easing off again in the near future?”

 

No

 

“Shame. Anyway, I assume Spock's talked to you about us?”

 

Yes

 

“I'm sorry we didn't tell you earlier, I kept expecting shit to go sideways. We just wanted a chance to figure each other out before going public. You were gonna be the first to know! I guess you still were the first.”

 

Yes

 

“Are you ok with it? With the idea of us?” 

 

Yes

 

McCoy let out a relieved laugh. “Oh, that is great news. That is really great. Thank you, Jim. Oh, I feel giddy. But, you know, that could be blood loss. 

 

“Jim, I am so, so excited to tell you about me and Spock. He's ridiculous, I don't know how we haven't killed each other. His room's too hot and he meditates every damn night, I'm not allowed to talk or move too suddenly when he's meditating. It's incredibly annoying. I'm very ready to go public with this relationship, I need to vent to people a bit. 

 

“Hey, maybe you and Spock can tell everyone before I get back! That way the shock of it will be overshadowed by my miraculous return. Yes?”

 

No

 

“No. Ok, fine. Ah, any movement on the rescue plan there?”

 

No

 

“That's alright. Let me know when you're coming, I'll try and get to high ground for you. Assuming that'll help. I am very very tired of this planet.

 

“Ok, Jim. I hope you're eating well and getting enough rest. Go to bed now, Doctor's orders. And put Spock on, yeah?”

 

Yes

 

“G’night.” McCoy paused for a bit. “Spock, you there?”

 

Yes

 

“Private line?”

 

Yes

 

“You alright, baby?”

 

Yes

 

“D'you guys have a visual on me?”

 

No

 

“Damn, I was hoping I could do a strip tease for you or something.”

 

The ship didn't move.

 

“Alright, sorry. Are you on the Bridge?” 

 

Yes

 

“Have you been sleeping enough? Don't bother replying, I'll assume not. I've ordered Jim off to bed tonight, I want you to make sure he actually gets some sleep, ok?”

 

Yes

 

“Thanks. Now. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I'm here and that I made the dumbass decision to stay here despite Jim's orders. I mean, I'd do it again in a heartbeat, but I never wanted to leave you. I just need you to know that, that I desperately want to see you again. I miss you, Spock.”

 

The ship remained still.

 

“Alright, yes for _I miss_ _you too, you gorgeous hunk of Southern man_ , no for _illogical_.”  
  


 

Yes

 

“Yes? Out of those two options you went with calling me a hunk? Are you sure you're ok?”

 

Yes

 

“Alright, babe. Look, I do need to talk to you about something. There's a real chance I won't survive this, and I need to say a few things-”

 

No

 

“Spock, I'm not well. My lung collapsed and my ribs are fucked. I've lost a ridiculous amount of blood, and that's making me so, so tired. I'm sleeping through the night and napping half my day away. I didn't get a chance to really recover from that day of throwing up. It's taking everything I've got to get enough food, and I'm barely managing it, I'm going hungry a lot. I have two very slow healing punctures in my side that re-tear every time I do something remotely physical. And we have no idea how long it'll be until you can come get me, but I won't live down here for very long. I'll fight tooth and nail to stay alive, but I just might not, ok?”

 

The ship didn't move.

 

“Fine, go quiet. But listen to me. At the back of my sock drawer is a Padd for Jo, ok? I need her to get it.”

 

Yes

 

“Thank you. Tell her I love her. That I was thinking about her the whole time I was away, right up to the end. Make sure she knows I love her. You don't leave her presence until she knows that.”

 

Yes

 

“Thank you, Spock. Also, if I die before you get to me you guys need to go. There's no point trying to get my body back, it's not worth the risk. Do you understand? I'll have none of that sentimental shit.”

 

Yes

 

“Good. Well, there's a few weights off my chest. Sorry to be a downer, I'll cheer up for tomorrow night. I'm falling asleep here, so I'm going to go.”

 

Yes

 

“Good night, beautiful.”

 

Yes

 

\----------

 

“Day seventeen. There's another storm. It's extremely cold and wet. I can't see you, there's too many clouds and too much rain. I - This is ridiculous. This is so difficult. Why does survival have to be so difficult?”

 

 

McCoy fell silent and the sound of wind filled his ears. “Alright, I need to talk about something to distract me. So, ah… The village next to me. I think they knew this storm was coming, they set up these great big butt-ugly shelters earlier today. They did the same thing last time. So clearly there was some kind of warning, I just didn't pick up on it. I hope that red kid brings me some bread again tomorrow. Yeah, that might keep me alive tonight. The promise of bread. I'll hang onto that. Ooh, getting dark a little quick there, ok. 

 

“They've not got any wheat or similar type of farming going, but they've got tonnes of those lemon fruits growing in a patch - they must have concrete stomachs to deal with all the citric acid, I know I'm struggling. They've also got a lot of nuts and that sort of thing, but they're all in the centre of town so far as I can tell. I'm not willing to risk heading that far in. They've also diverted the river to head through the town, with some specific reeds growing in it, I'll bet they're acting like a filtering system.

 

“They've got hierarchy and a complex sounding language. Family units. I'm fairly sure the horn blowing thing is religious. Although it could signal mealtimes, come to think of it. Four times a day, about an hour after dawn, twice more, then an hour before night. It's too dark at night to see a thing, so I don't know what they do then. I heard singing one night, very faint. And there was light flickering, so I imagine they've got fire. Of course, they'd need that for the bread, too. The singing event could've been religious again, but it could've also been a death, birth, wedding. Some other important alien event. 

 

“I'm very fond of these people. They're wary of me, they haven't come by much. But that woman took me seriously when I helped her kid and trusted me, which is a remarkable thing in a society so vastly different to my own. And that boy giving me bread... He saved my life, I wouldn’t’ve had the energy to get up the next day without it. That's just a level of kindness I wouldn't expect of anyone. Spock, I'm thinking Vulcans should try and get these guys to join the federation. They don't have any tech to speak of, but they look more like devils than you! They're red and have tails. Get on tha- Aah!”

 

A loud bang had occurred and McCoy felt his arm being ripped off by wind borne pieces of ship. “Fuck, fuck,” he muttered. “Oh, _shit_ that hurts.” 

 

The chair the wind had tossed at him had dislocated his left shoulder. “Ok, ok, ok, ok,” he muttered, calming himself down. “90 degrees, steady pressure, no sharp movements,” he told himself before following through on his training. He lay down and pushed hard and steady on his shoulder, the angle difficult and awkward. His focus outweighed the pain until the last moment when it popped back in and he screamed. Instantly the pain lessened and he realised he'd curled both hands into fists, meaning his shoulder was back in place. He lay there panting for a few moments before remembering that he hadn't turned the communications device off. He flung his good arm out and grabbed wildly for it. He brought it up to his face and began to giggle.

 

“Oh dear, I'm sorry about that,” he said once his brief hysteria passed. “Dislocated my shoulder. Word to the wise, never try to pop your own shoulder back in. Fucking difficult.”

 

He felt around his still numb shoulder and winced. “Ok, tore a good bit of skin off, too. That's aah… that's a real problem, I'm already low enough on blood to be dizzy half the time.”

 

He sighed and lay there for a few more moments, getting heavily rained on and feeling generally miserable and beaten. “Alright,” he said sadly. “Pants leg becoming a sling.”

 

His pants had so many small tears and holes in them already it wasn't difficulty to get a purchase. Using his right hand only he tore his left pants leg off halfway up his thigh. It took a few minutes to do one handed and was accompanied by a lot of swearing and cursing various things, mainly starfleet's strong fabric.

 

He sat up, grunting, and efficiently tied his scavenged piece of cloth around good shoulder, tucking his still painful arm in. 

 

“Well,” he said miserably. “This is horrible.”

 

He leant against the tattered wall and sighed. He couldn't tell how cut up his shoulder and back was, the numbness from the cold and dislocation rendering that a mystery. He tried a few times to talk to Spock, but had no idea what to say, slurring and changing his mind halfway through his attempted sentences. 

 

He began to space in and out, struggling to stave off sleep despite the loud wind and ongoing stinging pain from his shoulder. He'd come to every time the wind got louder or there was a needlessly loud noise. As he faded into consciousness he would mutter something comforting to Spock, not wanting him to worry, before collapsing back to sleep.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I googled how to pop your own shoulder back in and everyone basically said, "DON'T!" So, don't. Call a Doctor. But if you google hard enough and scroll through enough lists saying, "Ämbulance!" you get instructions like I put in above.  
> My friend has permanent nerve damage from an amateur re pop gone bad, so I care a weird amount that none of you try this unless you absolutely have to.


	3. Chapter 3

Spock was worried. He wouldn't let it show, of course, but the weather on the planet below was extreme, the second storm hitting just as harshly as the first had. And Doctor McCoy had yet to call them. It was worrying.

 

Jim had the conn, of which Spock was quite glad. Spock had proven himself far too close to the situation to maintain his composure. He expected the majority of the crew were unaware of his inner turmoil, Jim had kindly kept all his recriminations private. But everything had put something of a toll on his friendship with his Captain. Entirely his fault, and he certainly owed Jim an apology, but was unlikely to be able to give it until they got McCoy back. 

 

Spock had been spearheading the rescue mission attempts, volunteering to be on every shuttle that left the ship and spending every waking moment considering alternative factors and possible solutions for McCoy's entrapment. Some Jim had refused out of hand, such as Spock's offer to join McCoy on the planet surface, or the plan to build an elevator down to him (Spock had not been sleeping enough, Chapel had knocked him out with a medically prescribed sleeping agent after that briefing). Jim had been refusing Spock shuttle privileges as he spent too long attempting to reenter the planet’s atmosphere and had delayed in responding to direct orders. Spock was currently not allowed in Engineering until the next morning, Jim had imposed a formal instruction to relax. Spock was sore about that, but knew, logically, that Jim was right. Jim was usually, surprisingly, right.

 

Spock looked over at Jim, watching him glare at the planet on the display screen. He felt a pang of guilt and resolved to discuss their recent disagreements that night.

 

McCoy interrupted Spock's musings, his distorted voice playing through the Bridge speakers, the wind loud in the background.

 

“Day seventeen. There's another storm. It's extremely cold and wet.”

 

Jim looked over at Spock, relief evident on his face. Spock allowed a small smile to escape and Jim nodded, innately aware of Spock's earlier thoughts. Perhaps he had been thinking the same.

 

“I can't see you, there's too many clouds and too much rain. I - This is ridiculous. This is so difficult. Why does survival have to be so difficult?” McCoy sounded absolutely exhausted. Spock felt the twinge of worry he carried whenever McCoy wasn't in contact spark up.

 

“Spock,” Jim said softly. Spock turned and faced him. “I think we should take this privately, don't you?”

 

Spock could recognise an olive branch when it was being offered. “I agree, Captain. Briefing room or earpieces?” he asked.

 

Jim mused for a moment, listening to the sound of the wind on the planet below. “Briefing room, I think. Uhura, if we could grab some earpieces for the walk there?”

 

“Absolutely,” Uhura said, quickly passing them out. She waited for Spock and Jim to tuck them onto their ears before transferring the signal. 

 

Together, listening to McCoy's whimpered breathing and the storm they made their way down to the closest briefing room. 

 

As they entered McCoy began to talk. “Alright, I need to talk about something to distract me. So, ah…”

 

Jim pulled his earpiece out and commed Uhura, letting her know which room they were in to transfer the sound. Spock kept listening to McCoy, drinking in every word.

 

“The village next to me. I think they knew this storm was coming, they set up these great big butt-ugly shelters earlier today.” McCoy's voice was transferred to the room's speakers as he spoke. Without talking, Jim and Spock sat down across the table from each other and listened as McCoy continued to describe his observations of the community and town next to him.

 

Spock found himself amused by McCoy's descriptions. The good Doctor thought himself open minded, but continued to see things through the filtered glow of his life's experiences. Despite no relevant data, the Doctor had mentioned the likelihood of religion twice. He should put together a list of atheist species, who had never conceived of a deity. That would rile McCoy up. 

 

Unexpectedly, there was a loud noise through the speakers, distorted into a brief mechanical screech. As it wore off they heard McCoy swearing furiously for a short while before breathing deep, unsteady breaths. Spock recognised those breaths. “He's hurt,” he said sharply, about to rise from his chair before remembering how entirely helpless he was to assist from the ship.

 

“Ok, ok, ok, ok,” McCoy muttered. Jim stared in horror at Spock as they listened. “90 degrees, steady pressure, no sharp movements.”

 

“D'you know what's wrong with him?” Jim whispered over the top of McCoy's loud grunts and gasps.

 

Spock shook his head. He was not familiar enough with medicine to recognise McCoy's emergency response wrote. “He is conscious and speaking clearly, so it is not a head inju-”

 

He was cut short by McCoy's scream. The sound filtered through the system, coming out almost unhuman. But clearly, clearly, a scream of absolute agony. 

 

As quiet regained its grasp Spock found himself gripping the table so hard his knuckles had gone white. He forced his breathing to calm first then unglued his fingers. He looked up at Jim and was startled to see tears in his Captain’s eyes. 

 

They stared at eachother in shock, unable to move. After thirty second Jim stuttered, “Is - is he…?”

 

Spock did not respond. A few moments later a scrabbling noise came through the speakers, followed by McCoy's weak laugh.

 

“Oh my God.” Jim's face fell into his arms, one hand running harshly through his hair.

 

Spock felt a rush of warmth roll through him. He leant forward, leaning his elbows on the table and held his chin in his hands, covering his mouth. He closed his eyes blissfully and listened to McCoy's mildly hysterical giggling.

 

Not too long later McCoy calmed down and spoke again. “Oh dear, I'm sorry about that. Dislocated my shoulder. Word to the wise, never try to pop your own shoulder back in. Fucking difficult.”

 

Jim stood up and walked over to the wall, hand still in his hair. He stood there and stared at the paint for a moment then turned. He swallowed heavily and nodded, his eyes still wet.

 

Spock leant back from his hands, looking at Jim with no idea what emotion his face may be betraying.

 

“Ok, tore a good bit of skin off, too,” McCoy said. “That's aah… that's a real problem, I'm already low enough on blood to be dizzy half the time.”

 

Jim walked jerkily over to Spock and sat down next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder as they listened to McCoy. Spock resented himself for doing so, but he leaned in to Jim's comfort. 

 

“Alright,” McCoy said sadly. “Pants leg becoming a sling.”

 

“You alright?” Jim asked softly.

 

“Yes, sir,” Spock whispered. 

 

“Oh, Spock,” Jim sighed. He politely ignored Spock’s slight shivering. 

 

McCoy was clearly struggling to tear his pants, he swore and cursed and generally threatened Starfleet's tailor. His threats lacked their usual luster and imagination, though, and Spock began to fear that McCoy was struggling even more than he had let on. And he had admitted to having quite a difficult time, to say the least.

 

After a few excruciatingly long minutes McCoy had rearrange himself and had successfully put his arm in a sling. McCoy's defeated, tired sigh crackled through the speakers and he said, “Well, this is horrible.”

 

Jim and Spock sat in silence, looking at the tabletop as they listened to McCoy's breathing slow as he fell asleep, still transmitting to them. The wind howled on mercilessly in the background, but McCoy must have dropped the communicator on his chest because his breaths were loud and clear. 

 

After a few minutes of steady breathing from McCoy, Jim cleared his throat. “I think he's done for the night, Spock. I'm going to head back to the Bridge, would you like to stay here, or..?” 

 

Spock squared his shoulders slightly. “Captain, may I go to engineering and troubleshoot some rescue theories I have?”

 

Jim sighed. “Very well, Mr. Spock. But no joy rides without my express and specific permission, understood?”

 

“Understood. Thank you, sir.” They stood up and, without discussing it, put their ear pieces back in. Both would, of course, continue to listen to McCoy as long as he transmitted. 

 

Jim called Uhura quickly and she transferred the signal back to their individual devices. Nodding at each other they went their separate ways. 

 

Spock found McCoy's continued breathing, proof of his life, extremely comforting. Perhaps he could record McCoy when he returned and listen to that to comfort him - no. That was ridiculous and he would not ask that of his boyfriend. Aside from the fact that it would be quite an embarrassing situation, McCoy would never let him live it down. And he did not need the emotional support, as a Vulcan he was heavily trained in strength of character and neutrality. He was simply somewhat weakened now with the ongoing worry about McCoy’s health.

 

Spock entered engineering and nodded at Scotty, who walked over to greet him. 

 

“Mr. Spock, the Captain called ahead, I won't keep you long,” Scotty said, looking meaningfully at Spock's earpiece. “My lads will leave you be, but just let me know if you want someone to run over your number for you, I'll rustle a second pair of eyes up for ye.”

 

Scotty’s usual excitable personality had grown more and more subdued as McCoy's absence continued. He was clearly feeling the lack of his close friend quite keenly. “How is he, sir?” Scotty asked quietly.

 

“He is asleep,” Spock said. “He is not well, commander. But I can hear him breathing.” 

 

Scotty nodded his thanks. He turned and walked away, leaving Spock to his equipment. Spock turned to the station Scotty had carved out into search and rescue development central. There was specific and detailed recordings and data stored on the databanks, all of which had been cross examined and studied at great length by everyone heavily involved in the effort. 

 

Spock hadn't been here for a day now. He'd been theorising from his room instead. So he began by reading over Scotty’s concepts. 

 

Scotty seemed to have a remarkable lack of self consciousness when it came to the ideas he pitched. Any possible theory that entered his brain, no matter how absurd, was entered on the machine in case it became something later or sparked a thought in someone else. Spock had found it tiresome early on, but now that no one else seemed to have original theories any more he found himself appreciating the creativity.

 

Scotty’s suggestions were remarkable today. A large ladder (same problems as the space elevator theory). Multiple platforms each at maximum distance for safe transport in the erratic electromagnetic atmosphere (again, impossible to build). Source and purchase/borrow a large space dwelling creature that could swim down to McCoy and pick him up (such a creature is unheard of, would theoretically not survive in atmosphere and how would one communicate with it?). Go in with the Enterprise, using it's more powerful engines to escape (there is no way to know if the Enterprise could escape and the ship is not build to survive a planet's gravity). Magnet borne ship propulsion that works with the electromagnetics rather than fighting them (such a propulsion does not yet exist). Hot air balloon (Spock was unsure how to respond to this).

 

As Spock studied Scotty’s theories, adding his rebuttals to the file, McCoy began to cough in his ear.

 

Spock straightened, listening closely. McCoy moaned weakly and mumbled a few indistinguishable words. Spock closed his eyes, focusing on his voice.

 

“Sorry, babe, ‘m alrigh’,” McCoy mumbled quietly, the words slurring together. “Don’ worry. ‘S nothing you can… do.”

 

Spock felt his eyebrows pinching together when he realised McCoy was trying to comfort _him._

  
  


“‘M good, ‘m alrigh’,” McCoy sighed before falling quiet again. Spock remained still, listening closely for another minute in case McCoy came to again, but it seemed he was asleep again.

 

Spock opened his eyes and went back to studying Scotty’s list, just in case he'd missed something the first time through. 

 

As he studied the list an idea began to form. A risky mix of concepts and previous pitches that may work. He sat down and began to grind through the variables and restrictions that would apply. 

 

During the three hours Spock worked McCoy only interrupted once more. 

 

“Fuck ‘s cold. Spock, ‘m feelin’ much, much better. Really, I think ‘m good now, don’ worry, hun. I'll be fine, just go t’ sleep now, yeah? C’mere and give me a hug, ‘m chilly.”

 

Spock returned to work once McCoy fell asleep again. He had the beginnings of an idea but there were too many problems and leaps of faith for him to be comfortable with. He sat down and began to read through all previous attempts, pinpointing the problems that brought them down and, unfortunately, found that these issues would ruin his current theory in multiple ways. One most catastrophically. 

 

Then he noticed that the electromagnetics that were destroying all their equipment had eased after the last storm. He checked the current levels and they matched the high from eleven days previously, possibly meaning there would be a sweet spot over the next few days. They had been unequipped and uninformed last time, but with enough effort they may be able to pick McCoy up. 

 

Spock redoubled his efforts, furiously writing alternative plans for every possible hitch.

 

Once he was done he stood and turned around and realised time had passed and a shift change had occurred while he focused. Spock nodded to a curious ensign and left, Padd in hand, to Scotty’s quarters.

 

As Spock walked quickly down the corridor, McCoy grunted. After a moment he sighed and began to groan. Spock quickly stepped into the first reliably empty room to listen to McCoy. 

 

Spock found himself in a seldom used charting room, only useful in instances of extreme map making, which the Enterprise found itself in occasionally. The room was half lit and full of consols. Spock leant against one as McCoy coughed.

 

 

“Oh, why's it so cold? You mus’ be freezin’, Spock, turn the thermos up. Ya masochistic bastard.”

 

Spock felt a sick amusement. McCoy was so far gone he was insulting Spock in his sleep.

 

“S’alright, we'll warm up soon. We've gotta, darlin’. I've got ya,” McCoy yawned and muttered a few more non discernable words before falling asleep again. 

 

Spock stood still, taking a moment to calm his furiously tumbling insides. He pushed his emotions into the box where he had out all other extreme moments in the last few weeks. He kept meaning to address the build up of repression, but it proved too daunting a task without McCoy there to keep him stable. Spock essentially decided to deal with it once he had McCoy back, and just handle the ineffective meditation that resulted in the meantime.

 

“Spock.” Jim's voice came through his earpiece, speaking over the top of McCoy's steady breath. “Spock, are you ok?” Jim asked.

 

Spock took a breath and calmed himself, ensuring his voice would not sound strained. “Yes, Captain. Thank you.”

 

Jim paused for a beat. “Alright, Spock,” he said softly, unconvinced. “Where are you?”

 

“Fifth level, I am on my way to see Mr. Scott with a proposal.”

 

“Want me to meet you there to look over it?”

 

“No, I shall bring it to you if passes Mr. Scott’s inspection.”

 

“Very well, Mr. Spock,” Jim said kindly. “Good luck with your pitch.”

 

“Captain,” Spock said in farewell and tapped his earpiece. The sound of McCoy and his surroundings filled his world again.

 

Spock strode out of the room and down the corridor to Scotty. Upon arrival he knocked and waited, focusing on not letting his foot tap his impatience. 

 

Scotty took his sweet time answering his door. When Spock finally did enter it was too a dark room and the sounds of a pissed off, sleep deprived scotsman. 

 

“Mr. Scott, I apologise for disturbing you,” Spock said quietly.

 

“Spock? Is that Spock?” Scotty grunted from his bed.

 

“Yes, sir,” Spock said.

 

Scotty sighed loudly. “Alright, just give me a moment to get my kit on,” he grumbled and rolled out of his bed.

 

Spock was about to comment that his uniform would not be necessary as Spock had interrupted him, but then noticed that Scotty was wearing _nothing_ . Spock glanced at the bookshelf as Scotty casually walked over to his chest of drawers, his dick swinging with every step.

 

While Scotty dressed Spock began telling him his latest idea. 

 

“I believe if we begin to merge different ideas we may be able to make it to the surface and back. My current idea involves mixing a shuttle craft, a transporter and a purely mechanical flying construction. I have the details here. The problem is that we do not have a stable shuttle, a portable transporter device or a mechanical flying machine.”

 

“So what you're saying is,” Scotty said, pulling a jumper on as he sat down. “You've got this idea, but nothing else?”

 

Spock paused. “Yes, that is accurate.”

 

Scotty looked at him in exasperation for a moment, then took pity. “Alright, give us a look,” he said and took the Padd from Spock.

 

Spock waited, forcing himself to be patient. Scotty read through his proposal once, then twice, slower the second time. Spock found himself zoning out and listening instead to McCoy's steady breath.

 

“So,” Scotty said, “You want to put a fresh transporter system in a shuttle, fly the shuttle as low as it can go, then transport your flying machine as far as the signal will reach and hopefully you'll land in an atmosphere the machine can tackle. Then you fly down, pick up the Doctor, fly back up, transport out and fly out, assuming the transporter and shuttle haven't kicked it by then?”

 

“Essentially, yes,” Spock said. 

 

“It's mad, Mr. Spock.” 

 

“They were all your ideas.”

 

“My ideas were mad, too!”

 

“Will you try?”

 

“Oh, of course,” Scotty said with a smile. 

 

Spock almost smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Scott,” he said.

 

“Luckily, we already have a shuttle with a transporter from Chekov’s thought a week ago, remember? Now, I can't get you a flying machine that'll take off, you'll have to stay in the air…”

 

The two began to discuss the details and fix any problems they could. By the time they were prepared to present to Jim (two hours later) Scotty had added some radical elements to the plan and Spock was feeling much more confident about it.

 

Just as they were finishing up, McCoy began to cough again. Spock excused himself to the bathroom and stood, waiting, in the lit room. As he stood there he realised that this was McCoy's bathroom. Of course, McCoy and Scotty shared a bathroom. He knew this. But seeing McCoy's toothbrush, favourite towel and the illegal distillery in the bath hit him quite suddenly. He hadn't been able to go to McCoy's room since his absence, he hadn't built up the courage. He was ill prepared for this.

 

“Where the fuck… where is this? Is that dawn? Why is there a dawn in my room?” McCoy muttered angrily. There was some static the McCoy's voice came through again, muffled by something. “Let this be the ship, please let me be on the Enterprise. Come on.”

 

A few seconds passed then there was a rustle and, “Ah, shit.”

 

Spock found himself walking slowly towards McCoy's door, filling with dread. He pushed on the handle and it opened for him. McCoy had given Spock full access to his quarters months ago, on the agreement he not use the access in a professional capacity. Spock walked into McCoy's room, holding his breath.

 

“Alright, Bones, up we get.” Spock listened as McCoy struggled to his feet then swiftly fell over. “Aah, dizzy, damn,” McCoy muttered. “Fuck! Shoulder hurts, why does my shoulder hurt?”

 

Spock breathed in slowly, revelling in the smell. The room was full of the scent bourbon, cologne and leather, from nights spent drinking and shining his shoes. McCoy had quite the array of cowboy boots. 

 

“Damn dislocated bastard.”

 

Spock walked slowly around, his fingers trailing on the table top, the bed, the shelves. There was a fine layer of dust that came off onto his fingers. Spock studied it sadly. McCoy's papers and Padds were still on the table, medical reports, journals, a few pieces of information about the mission to the planet below.

 

McCoy let out a brief sob before going silent, holding his breath. “Alive, I'm still alive. Take that, storm. Where's my damn communicator?” he grumbled.

 

Spock turned on the spot, taking in every familiar detail about the room. He spotted one of his books by McCoy's bed, one he'd leant him on a study of the crossover in miracles and mysticism versus ahead of its time medicine. 

 

“Already transmitting?” McCoy laughed. “You guys better not be listening to me sleep!”

 

Spock was alone in a dark room, so he let himself smile at that comment. With a possible rescue plan brewing and standing McCoy's room he felt closer to his boyfriend then he had in weeks. It was a bittersweet sensation, but vastly preferable to the abject misery he'd been suffering with.

 

McCoy grumbled briefly then tried standing up again. He succeeded this time and sighed. “Wait,” he said suddenly. “What happened to my pants?”

 

Spock shook his head, clearing his mind from the emotional fog rolling in. He sat down at his usual seat and listened to McCoy. It was like a parody of nights they'd spent chatting together 

 

“Found my pants, boys. They're on my shoulder, where they should be.” McCoy made a few more shuffling sounds, walking around his shuttle. “This is a mess. Ok, I'm gonna sign off and try to find some left over pain meds. I might get lucky. Talk later.” And he was gone.

 

Spock felt a wave of loneliness come over him. No matter, he would get McCoy back. He would. 

 

He stood up and returned to Scotty, refusing to glance back as he shut the door to McCoy's quarters.

 

“Everything alright, sir?” Scotty asked. Spock had been gone quite a while.

“Yes,” Spock said. He removed the ear piece, deeming it unnecessary now that McCoy had hung up. He saw Scotty watching his movements. “He is awake and lucid,” Spock said.

 

Scotty nodded. “Thank you, sir.”

 

“Is there anything else we need to discuss?” Spock asked.

 

“No, I think we can take this to the Captain now.” Scotty began tidying up their strewn sketches.

 

\----------

  
  


Jim couldn't believe he'd agreed to this. There was so much that could go wrong in the plan. But Scotty and Spock had managed to sort through the vast majority of issues, they'd clearly been learning something from all their failed attempts. He sat back and listened to Scotty give the formal explanation to the Bridge and chief medical crew around the briefing room.

 

“Step one, we mess with the hangar deck so that we can fly it off. As we know, the biggest thing stopping us from going further down is the size of the Enterprise, so the hanger deck will be able to knock off a few hundred miles of vital distance. In that we will build a hot air balloon, I'll explain what for in a moment.

 

“Two, we have a shuttle craft with a transporter attached. Now, the transporter’s range is severely diminished by the magnetics in that layer of the atmosphere, but we're hoping that between the hanger and shuttle we can transport the hot air balloon from the hanger to a level of atmosphere it can float in. 

 

“For this to work we will need to inflate the hot air balloon in the hangar before transporting it into the atmosphere. I can set up the transporter so it will maintain the warmth of the air in the balloon. Then, whoever’s in the balloon will float down and at a certain level will drop a modified escape pod on a rope to McCoy.

 

“They pull McCoy up, float back to transporter range and we get them back to the hangar. Then it's a matter of flying the hangar back to the ship, which shouldn't be a problem.

 

“Any question?” Scotty smiled at the stunned crowd. 

 

There was silence for a while, then, “Why do we need the pod on a rope thing at the end?” Sulu asked.

 

“Good lad,” Scotty said. “The shuttle craft and hanger will be struggling already, we need to be as quick as possible. Stopping and starting takes quite a while in a balloon. If the hot air balloon fails we have a backup plan that involves a purely mechanical plane, Wright brothers style. But that'll take longer to build, most of my team are busy converting the hanger right now.”

 

“Who's going in the hot air balloon?” Chekov asked.

 

Jim leaned forwards. “I'm not going to pick anyone, it's a very risky trip. You might die, or be stuck there with him.”

 

“I'll go,” Spock said.

 

Jim glared at him. “Having said that,” he continued, ignoring Spock's interjection. “I think it would be good to send a member of the medical personnel. Bones is in bad shape and may need immediate treatment on the way up.” He looked over at M’Benga and Chapel. “I'll leave that up to you guys to decide,” he said.

 

The two looked at each other and muttered a few words.

 

“I'll go,” Chapel said. “I've more experience in field medicine.”

 

“Nurse Chapel, I urge you to consider this at length. This is a big thing I'm asking here,” Jim said.

 

Chapel scoffed. “Nonsense, of course I'll go.”

 

Jim nodded. “Spock and Scotty will go over the details with you. Mr. Sulu, are you willing to take the shuttle craft? It may need some tricky stabilising.”

 

Sulu smiled. “No problem, Captain.”

 

“Uhura, I want you to come up with a lightweight communication receiver so that we can communicate with the hot air balloon through the atmosphere, we'll need to know about any complications.”

 

“I'll get started on that immediately, sir,” Uhura said. 

 

“Alright, well done everyone. Get to it, we want to head out as soon as possible. Tomorrow, if we can.” 

 

The team scattered, nodding at each other. Uhura walked out with Scotty, arranging a work table for her to start on. Sulu waved down Chapel and offered to go over the atmospheric complications with her so that she'd know what she was facing. Left at the table with Jim was Spock.

 

“You're not sending me out, sir,” Spock said, resigned to his fate.

 

Jim sighed. “No, Spock. You're too close to this. Scotty will be in the hanger, ensuring the hot air balloon deploys correctly, you won't be needed there.”

 

“If it were anyone else I'd be involved, sir,” Spock said.

 

Jim nodded. “But it's not anyone else, it's someone you care deeply about. Anyone would be affected, Spock. This isn't a slight on you, I have full faith in your professional capacity.”

 

“Captain, I am Vulcan, my emotions will not cloud my judgement.”

 

“But a bleeding, hurt, exhausted and overwhelmed McCoy might, Spock. I want you in sickbay to receive him.”

 

“I will not be useful in sickbay.”

 

“He should come back to a familiar face.”

 

Spock looked very offended for a moment. “It is his sickbay, sir, every face will be familiar.”

 

“Spock!” Jim hit the table. “This isn't up for debate. You will be in sickbay.”

 

Spock was quiet. He tightened his lips for a second the released them. “Very well, sir,” he said stiffly.

 

Jim sighed. “Spock, I'd like you to go help out Scotty, we'll need all hands on deck to get everything built. Are we good?”

 

“Yessir,” Spock said and stood up to leave. “Thank you, sir.”

 

Jim nodded at him and left, feeling quite guilty but sure of his decision nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go team Enterprise!


	4. Chapter 4

“Hey guys,” McCoy said. “My day was awful, how about you?”

 

He was lying on the grass next to his shattered shuttlecraft, gazing up at the Enterprise’s bright point through exhausted eyes. 

 

The Enterprise began to move, it went towards the Yes point but at about halfway it turned and began to form a large arc, continuing to carve a full circle. Then it repeated. The were just flying in a circle.

 

“What the hell are you up to? Has Sulu fallen asleep?”

 

They swung out further and passed through the no point then continued to circle about.

 

“Fine, d'you have something to tell me?”

 

They said yes then returned to center.

 

McCoy laughed. “Good fucking luck! We've sorted out yes, no, and spin.” A sobering thought hit McCoy and he went quiet for a moment. “Is someone hurt?”

 

No.

 

“Is there another storm coming?” McCoy was pretty sure he wouldn't survive another storm.

 

“D'you have to leave?”

 

No. No. 

 

“Very much no? Ok, d'you have a rescue plan?”

 

Yes.

 

“Yes!?” McCoy yelled. “Is it a good one?”

 

Yes.

 

“Well, I suppose you'd say that either way. D'you need anything from me?”

 

No. 

 

“Easy, I'll just hang out here and wait for you then. Is it happening soon?”

 

Yes.

 

“Tonight?”

 

No. 

 

“Tomorrow?”

 

Yes.

 

“Tomorrow.” McCoy paused, letting it sink in. “Wait, how dangerous is it? Is anyone risking themselves?”

 

The ship stayed still.

 

“What's that meant to mean?” McCoy said in exasperation. “‘Butt out, McCoy, you can't stop us anyway’?”

 

Yes.

 

McCoy rolled his eyes and muttered to himself briefly. “Jim,” he said seriously, “Don't you let anyone get hurt for me, alright?”

 

There was a pause from the ship then, Yes.

 

“Thanks.” McCoy lay back and smiled at the Enterprise. He thought about it honestly, the possibility of going back. He had never doubted they'd find a way, it had just been a matter of whether he'd live long enough for them to figure it out. Well, he was pretty sure he could survive another day for them! He realised he was still grinning, the realisation making him happier for it. He hadn't unconsciously smiled in a fair while, always either laughing shortly or forcing the smile to happen. He didn't let himself get too far ahead of himself, though. No imagining the reunion. No picturing hugging Jim, kissing Spock, being fussed over by Christine. Well, maybe he was imagining it a bit.

 

“Can't wait to see y’all,” he muttered into the communicator.

 

Yes.

 

He laughed. “Fair enough!” He cleared his throat and decided to change the topic before he got too emotional.

 

“Well, my day was pretty unpleasant. I've been sick again, there's definitely something nasty in the rain water here. I haven't fixed a thing in this damn shuttle, and since you're coming tomorrow I won't bother. My bread friend didn't come by, I've just realised. My day was spent in something of a haze, so I didn't notice ‘til just now. But that's a shame. I hope he hasn't given up on me, I haven't given up on me yet.

 

“I missed you guys last night. Hey, Spock, if you're listening I'm real sorry about last night. I only remember bits and pieces, but that can’t’ve been awfully pleasant for you. M’sorry.

 

“So I imagine a certain degree of activity will be expected of me tomorrow, what with the rescue. So I'm going to go to sleep. I'll, ah, see you tomorrow, I guess.”

 

Yes.

 

“G’night.”

 

\---------

  
  


McCoy wasn't really sure what to do. He couldn't see the Enterprise during the day, so there was no point trying to contact them. He was sitting on top of his shuttle, nibbling on lemon peel, watching for something in the sky. He assumed they were coming for him physically, but of course he could just be transported away without any warning.

 

He had his communicator with him incase they managed to get a signal through, and he had put every piece of information he'd gathered onto a disk for further study. He'd even tried to wash up a bit, but gave up pretty quickly when the water current of the river started hurting his bung knee.

 

And so he sat, waiting. 

 

Hours passed. He sang a few songs. He fell asleep by mistake a few times and woke in a panic, searching the skies frantically in case he'd missed it. Whatever it would be.

 

He was blowing on a curl of fabric, watching it dance, when he glanced up and saw a dark, moving dot.

 

He told himself to stay calm, it could simply be a bird or something. But he grew excited despite himself. As he watched it changed directions a few times, growing ever larger. He grabbed the communicator and said quickly, “I think I see you.”

 

He sat and watched, the approach painfully slow. It was perhaps only five minutes before the dot formed an undeniable, recognisable shape, but it felt much much longer. “Is that a hot air balloon?” he asked the silent communicator. “Where did you even get that?”

 

It got closer much faster now. Once it was nearly on top of him, still a hundred meters up, it dropped a large thing attached to a rope onto the ground next to him. McCoy screeched in surprise, glad he'd turned the communicator off.

 

The escape pod’s door (for that's what it was) sprung open and a recording of Jim's voice started. “Doctor McCoy, get in the pod. Doctor McCoy, get in the pod. You'll want to strap in.” The recording repeated, egging McCoy on as he quickly and with great difficulty scrambled off the roof of his shuttle craft. 

 

McCoy leapt into the pod and pulled the buckled over himself. As soon as he shut the door he lurched upwards, swaying terrifyingly. He stood in silence, listening to Jim's muffled voice continue to tell him to get in the pod. He smiled at the sound, feeling his eyes pricking. It had been weeks since he'd heard another human's voice.

 

Within a minute the pod slowed then tipped dramatically to the side. McCoy cried out, his head hitting the back wall nastily, blackening his vision for a moment.

 

The door opened and he came face to face with a large space suit with an opaque visor.

 

“If you guys sent a robot to pick me up I'm going to hit someone,” McCoy muttered. 

 

The suit quickly slid their visor up and Nurse Chapel’s smile greeted him.

 

“Christine?” McCoy asked incredulously. 

 

“Leo,” she grinned. “You look awful.”

 

 

She quickly unbuckled him and caught him as his knee gave out when he stepped out of the pod. She put him in a corner and passed him a suit of his own to put on.

 

While he struggled to get his gear on, Christine turned Scotty’s hot air machine on full and the balloon began to rise. She quickly severed the rope on the escape pod and threw it overboard. She turned around and noticed McCoy having great difficulty getting his fingers to perform the detailed task of putting air tight shoes on.

 

She knelt at his side and helped him. “Doctor, could you give me a rundown of your injuries?”

 

McCoy smiled at her. “Yes, Nurse Chapel. I'll go feet up. Aah, couple of toes on my left foot are broken. Right ankle is twisted. Right knee has been swollen for days, I think I wrenched a few ligaments. Multiple deep punctures that I can't get to close on my lower right abdomen. A few broken ribs. Recently dislocated left shoulder and serious skin loss on that shoulder. My right pinky has been stiff and numb for a while now. Lost a few nails. And I'm covered in cuts, scratches, bruises, rashes, so on. And I was throwing up yesterday. Oh, and general starvation. And probably some parasites.” 

 

Christine looked at him in either shock or amazement. McCoy smiled weakly at her. “All in all, not my worst shore leave yet.”

 

She shook her head silently. “I'll give you adrenaline and a painkiller to get us back, but no food or water. I want you in surgery then flushed clean, we'll feed you after that.”

 

“A painkiller and adrenaline sounds great,” McCoy said sincerely. Christine quickly injected both into his neck then began to put his helmet on, hooking it up to an air supply. “Just how high are we going?” McCoy asked.

 

“High as we can,” she said, fixing her own visor back in place. 

 

McCoy sat quietly, feeling energised and entirely overwhelmed. Christine played with the direction the balloon was going in a few times, clearly with a destination in mind.

 

Suddenly the communications inside their suits crackled to life.

 

“Nurse Chapel, what's your situation?” Jim asked.

 

“Jim!” McCoy yelled joyously.

 

“Bones?” Jim asked quietly.

 

“I've got him, Captain,” Chapel said.

 

“Very well done, Nurse,” Jim said sincerely.

 

“Jim, how in Hell’s name am I meant to get off this balloon? This is madness!” McCoy grumbled, grinning madly.

 

“We've got it all sorted out, Bones, don't worry. Just do what Christine says.” Jim laughed down the line. “It's great to hear you there, Bones.”

 

“It's damned good to hear your voice, Jim,” McCoy said.

 

“Captain,” Christine interrupted, “Tell M’Benga and Spock to set up an exploratory surgery table with foreign agent detectors. A full purge unit, multiple bone knitters, namely finger, toe, rib and shoulder. Actually, grab knee and ankle too. Skin regen, mini x ray, acid regulator test and four litres of O+.”

 

Jim paused at the end of the list. “Ah, yes Nurse, I'm passing that along.”

 

“Also, if you could get someone on the hangar to prepare a scrub set for me, that'd be just great, Captain,” Christine said.

 

“It'll be there for you,” Jim replied quickly.

 

“Four litres seems like overkill,” McCoy said.

 

Christine glanced at him, her face invisible due to the visor. “Leo, if you could see yourself you wouldn't say that. Also, I want to filter all your blood, who knows what alien shit you've got there.”

 

McCoy shrugged and accepted his fate, too exhausted to challenge her. “So,” he said, unwilling to be quiet when he could finally have a real conversation. “Why's Spock in medbay? Found his calling while I was away?”

 

“Captain's orders, I didn't ask. I was too busy learning to fly this damn thing,” she said.

 

“What is with this? Where'd you get it?”

 

“Well, the fabric is a mismatch from various textile and crafty types onboard, and the engineering guys put it together last night. Still a lot of bugs to work out, but they're not going to get it back, unfortunately.”

 

McCoy looked at her sharply. “Why not?” he asked. “What's happening to it? What's happening to us?”

 

“We're getting transported out, assuming I make it to the transport point, to a hangar deck Scotty put wings on. Sulu’s in a shuttle mid way with a transporter to do the move. Things have a much shorter life and range in this atmosphere.”

 

McCoy frowned. “And you made all this in a night?”

 

“Day and a half. We already had the shuttle and transporter from previous attempts, and turns out Scotty’s been trying to make every part of the ship a separate flying mech in his spare time, so we already had the plans for the hangar. It was just a matter of getting it done, and with everyone working it was simple enough.” 

 

McCoy sat back and thought about it. Everyone teaming up for him. Of course, they'd do it for anyone on the ship but the fact that it had been him had him a little emotional. 

 

“Nurse Chapel,” Sulu said through the intercomm, surprising McCoy. “You're plateauing out a little low there, can you push the engine a bit?”

 

Christine looked at the readout she had and tutted. “Negative, Sulu. I've got everything pushed all the way up. I'll throw a few things overboard, give me a moment.”

 

She turned around and started pulling emergency directives, med kits and backup devices out and over the edge. McCoy was mildly startled by how ferocious she was being, the walls seemed entirely bare to him already, the absolute minimum of stuff had been sent along. But, clearly, he and Christine disagreed on what constituted necessary.

 

“Nurse, I still can't reach you. Is there anything else you can do without?” Sulu asked.

 

Christine looked around the room madly. “No, I - that's everything,” she sounded slightly panicked, which didn't comfort McCoy. “I could take my suit off and keep the breathing apparatus, but I'm not willing to get Leo out of his.”

 

“That'll take too long, my shuttle's already struggling,” Sulu said. McCoy began to feel a prickle of despair. “Ok,” Sulu said in defeat, “I'm coming for you.”

 

Jim’s voice fizzled down to them. “Mr. Sulu, I advise against that, you may not come back up.”

 

“Understood, Captain, can I make the call?” Sulu asked tensely.

 

“Yes,” Jim said.

 

Everyone went quiet. “Jesus,” McCoy muttered.

 

He and Christine sat there in suspenseful silence, willing themselves to be lighter and rise the balloon.

 

Suddenly McCoy began to tingle. He heard a rushing noise and the wholly uncomfortable sensation of the transporter. He appeared in the middle of a shuttle with Christine and immediately fell over, the change in gravity, atmosphere and noise too much even from inside his suit. 

 

The shuttle was screaming. It creaked alarmingly and the sound of tearing metal filled the air. Sulu was quietly swearing in his corner. 

 

McCoy looked around the terrifying room. There were signs of haphazardly installed equipment and frayed wires everywhere. The back half of the craft had been completely removed to fit the added bulk of a transporter. The whole thing was terrifying. It was like McCoy's personal hell.

 

“We're onboard,” Christine shouted, having taken her helmet off. McCoy started to fumble with the buckle at his neck as Christine devoid herselt of the rest of her suit.

 

Sulu kept pushing the shuttle upwards, but it seemed entirely unwilling to move. He reached over and flicked a recently (and clearly hurriedly) installed switch.

 

While Christine helped McCoy with his boots the shuttle began to shudder violently, the engines screaming louder. A second deep groaning noise joined, like the death rattle of a giant. 

 

“Holy shit, Scotty,” Sulu yelled. Once the shuddering hit its hardest and most alarming Sulu slammed his hand on the air conditioning button that showed signs of being massively rewired. McCoy felt an explosion underneath them and they shot upwards. Sulu furiously held the steering steady, fighting the erratic blast pattern. After a few terrifying seconds of flight Sulu hit the transporter control and they all shimmered out.

 

They appeared on a vastly calmer hangar deck to a collection of concerned faces. McCoy was clutching onto Christine’s arm for dear life, his face showing pure terror. There was a solid ringing in his ears from the explosion.

 

“What the 

is this rescue plan?” he asked weakly. 

 

“Sulu!” Scotty called, “That was marvellous!”

 

McCoy looked madly at Sulu who was shivering and shaking his head. “That was awful, Scotty,” Sulu said.

 

Scotty kept grinning as he approached and grabbed McCoy's hand. “It's bloody good to see you,” he said happily.

 

McCoy stared at him wildly. “Was that you? Are you trying to kill me?”

 

Scotty had the gall to look confused.

 

“I'm going to have nightmares about that shuttle for weeks, Scotty!” McCoy yelled.

 

Scotty smiled fondly at him. “It wasn't all that bad,” he said. “Nurse, we've got your scrub station set up over this way.” He led the two of them off to a table with warm water and sponges on it.

 

McCoy turned to Christine in instant amusement. “Are you going to give me a sponge bath?” He was definitely experiencing some severe mood swings. He was willing to blame that on an emotionally charged situation and adrenaline. He hoped that would calm down soon.

 

She rolled her eyes. “Only if you're good. Now get your gear off.” She pulled a privacy partition over and stared pointedly at him until he sighed and started stripping. 

 

Together they removed all his makeshift bandages, vine, fern, shirt and pants fabric that he'd been using to keep his body intact. When they removed the fern and tied shirt from his waist the punctures from the bird began to seep blood again. Christine tutted and began cleaning the area quickly while McCoy struggled to take his pants off his shoulder only using one arm.

 

After only ten minutes McCoy was squeaky clean and wearing a pale blue wrap. Christine had decided to not bother with his hair just yet and he had a suction shower cap on so that the crap in his hair wouldn't get anywhere else. He had an awful lot of temporary bandages and creams on him, his back and shoulder felt absurdly slick and he was having a bit of trouble breathing with how tight his ribcage had been bandaged. The painkiller Christine had given him earlier was still having an effect and he hadn't felt anything beyond momentary shoots of pain. The adrenaline, however, was wearing off and he felt himself growing very sleepy. 

 

Christine gently led him back to the transport site and they stood there together, McCoy too exhausted to speak, waiting to get in range of the Enterprise’s transporter. 

 

McCoy was struggling to keep his eyes open, the stress of the situation had died down as it became clear that the hangar, while slow moving, was making its way to the Enterprise fine. The lack of impending death had made McCoy very, very tired, and he was glad that shortly he would arrive in medbay and not have to do another thing, his life in someone else's hands.

 

Finally, finally, the transporter sensation took hold and McCoy felt himself lifted away.

 

McCoy opened his eyes, surprised at himself for closing them. The first thing he noticed was that he did keep his medbay at a decent lux, it wasn't overly bright like some hospitals, but still very clearly lit.

 

The next thing he noticed was Spock, who was standing stock still holding some disinfectant wipes and staring at him. Spock's mouth fell slightly open. 

 

“Spock,” McCoy said softly. Very suddenly the edges of his vision went black. “Oh, hell,” McCoy said and he tipped forward, far too dizzy to stay upright. Before he passed out he saw Spock and M’Benga rush to catch him

 


	5. Chapter 5

McCoy came to slowly. First he heard the beeping of one of sickbay’s life sign monitors. Once he realised what he was hearing he clung onto it desperately, sure it was a dream. As he focused on the sound, willing it to not go away, he began to remember the mad rescue attempt he may have endured. Surely he couldn’t’ve come up with something that insane himself, that must've happened. As he realised this he heard a general muted hubbub of voices and resigned himself to opening his eyes, hoping against hope he wouldn't come face to face with the burnt orange sky of Kaneeta.

 

He opened his eyes and was surprised by how dimly lit the roof was. His roof. His sickbay roof. So he was definitely on the Enterprise. He lay there, still, and began to hear the familiar background hum of the ship. In an effort to draw attention he cleared his throat. It rasped horribly and he fell into an unwilling coughing fit.

 

Everyone in the room rushed to his side. Jim's hand snuck around his back, lifting him carefully to sitting while Christine passed him a cup of water. He took it from her and, with great difficulty, drank.

 

Once he'd calmed his body he leaned back and surveyed the crowd, mildly amused by how close everyone was standing. Christine and M’Benga were on either side of him, Jim stood next to M’Benga, followed by Scotty, Sulu, Rand and Uhura. He smiled at them, his eyes tracking back and forth across their faces. He focused back on Jim, who was grinning ear to ear. McCoy immediately felt like crying, but he ignored the temptation. 

 

“Jim,” he said. He raised his right hand, noticing his pinky strapped to his ring finger. Jim took his hand immediately, taking care with his injury.

 

“Bones, it's amazing to see you.”

 

Christine started messing with the bandages on his torso, presumably he'd rustled them during his coughing fit. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

 

McCoy considered the question. He definitely wasn't in pain. “Pretty good,” he said, unable to focus on anything except the remarkable lack of pain. “Hungry. A bit like I'm dreaming.”

 

“Bloody dull dream, then,” Scotty said happily. “Just this lot. Not that the ladies present aren't lovely,” he added, glancing at the three of them. Uhura shook her head dismissively.

 

“Scotty, I tried making a brew down there,” McCoy said, trying to sit up. He got a few inches before M’Benga pushed him back down. McCoy glared at M’Benga who just shook his head and kept comparing his current life readings to past and projected. 

 

“Aye, the Cap’n let me listen to that part of things. Awful effort, lad,” Scotty said.

 

McCoy grinned at him, proud of his failings. “I meant to bring you some, but it really was just terrible.” 

 

Scotty smiled indulgently at him. “I've got some decent stuff in my quarters that you can rinse the memory with once you're out.”

 

McCoy chuckled and nodded at him. He glanced over at Jim and M’Benga. “How long am I going to be in here, d'you reckon?” he asked them.

 

He saw M’Benga glance at Christine.

 

“Wait, how long have I been here? How long was I away?” McCoy asked suddenly, realising he actually had no idea what day it was. 

 

Jim rubbed his thumb over McCoy's knuckles in an absentminded gesture of support. McCoy was struck with a thought. “Where's Spock?” he asked. “Is he alright?”

 

Jim sighed in annoyance. McCoy noticed Uhura rubbing the back of her neck uncomfortably. 

 

“Spock's fine, he's got the conn,” Jim said shortly. “As for you, you were stranded on KN55-2 on stardate-”

 

“Kaneeta,” McCoy corrected him.

 

Jim smirked. “I'll make a formal suggestion to Starfleet for you,” he offered. “You were on Kaneeta for sixteen days. The days are slightly shorter there, so you experienced eighteen days, I think. We made the successful rescue effort two days ago, you arrived and promptly passed out. You've been out for about a day and a half. It's stardate 1789.4, it's a Wednesday. It's 1430 or so.”

 

McCoy nodded slowly. “Sixteen days, so, two and a half weeks?” he asked. 

 

Jim nodded. Silence fell among the group for a moment as McCoy processed this.

 

“Well,” he finally said, “It's fucking great to be back.”

 

Everyone smiled, relaxing a bit. “It's very good to have you back,” Uhura said softly with great sincerity. 

 

McCoy smiled at her warmly and turned to Christine. “So, what's left to fix?” he asked casually. 

 

“We need to discuss your abdomen at greater length, we're a bit lost there,” Christine said. McCoy glanced worriedly down at his stomach, noting the extravagance of bandages. “You'll be having very plain food until the damage the citric acid has done wears off, we have some liquid for you to drink there, too. Also, you need to be treated for uvb radiation of your skin and eyes.”

 

“Are you going to submerge me?” McCoy asked excitedly. He'd had a few illicit baths in the tank, but had been very keen to go in with an oxygen mask on and just hang out underwater. 

 

“Yes,” Christine said. “Lastly, your shoulder and knee need more time to heal, but you should be ok there in a day or so.”

 

“Alright,” McCoy said. It could be worse, really. “Is there any chance I could eat?” he asked.

 

Jim nodded. “I'll go grab you something now,” he said and, after patting McCoy on his good shoulder, he trotted off to the replicator.

 

“We should be getting back,” Sulu muttered, not wanting to force the issue. 

 

“You are needlessly punctual, Mr. Sulu,” Scotty said, sighing.

 

Sulu grinned at him. “We all bear our vices, sir.”

 

Scotty, Rand and Sulu made their brief farewells and left. Rand ushered Uhura along but she raised a finger.

 

Christine nodded her head, recognising Uhura’s want to have a private talk with McCoy and left, following Jim to the kitchen. M’Benga wandered off but stayed in the room, out of earshot.

 

McCoy looked at her, openly curious, as the others left. “And how can I help you, dear?”

 

“Doctor, you should know,” she said softly, “The Captain and Spock elected to inform me of your relationship with Spock.”

 

McCoy raised his eyebrows. He had expected a few more people to be told,  but he hasn't thought about who. “I see…” he said, leaving his response open for when he knew her opinion.

 

“I told Christine. It wasn't my place, but I did. You should know that too.” Uhura looked genuinely concerned that he would be bothered by this.

 

McCoy nodded. Honestly, he was relieved to have not been the one to tell Christine, her crush on Spock had made things uncomfortable for McCoy over the last few months. And she clearly wasn't furious because McCoy was still alive. “That's perfectly fine,” McCoy said after Uhura continued to look at him in a silent worry.

 

Uhura smiled at him. “I expect Jim will sugar coat this for you, but I think you should know,” she said. McCoy felt a cold dread fill him. “He and Spock have been fighting. Since you got back it's been especially bad. I don't know the content of the disagreements but it's got everyone on edge.”

 

McCoy looked up at her in surprise. “Can you, maybe, take a guess?” he asked.

 

Uhura sighed and nodded, full of pity. “As I understand, Jim is frustrated that Spock isn't here with you, and Spock… well, I don't quite know. I think he's scared to see you.”

 

McCoy stared at her, amazed. He heard Jim walking back in so he quickly nodded his thanks. 

 

“Lieutenant,” Jim said cheerfully as he placed a tray down. 

 

Uhura greeted him and quickly made her farewells before scurrying off to her station.

 

McCoy waved her off then lifted the tray. “Soup and jelly,” he said flatly.

 

Jim grimaced. “Nurse Chapel says no solids yet. Better than salad, at least!”

 

McCoy glared at him, as if this were his fault. “I quite like salad,” he said threateningly.

 

Jim rolled his eyes and smiled at him. McCoy smiled back and began tucking into his meal, his stomach out weighing any objection. 

 

“So what did Nyota want?” Jim asked after watching McCoy for a moment.

 

McCoy swallowed heavily. “Jus’ telling me that she and Christine know ‘bout Spock and me,” he said quickly before going back to his meal, having found that after the first bite he was absolutely starving.

 

“She told Chapel that you and Spock…” Jim trailed off, glancing around.

 

“Were dating, yeah,” McCoy finished for him.

 

Jim looked at him sharply. “‘Were’?” he repeated.

 

“Are dating,” He corrected. “S’far as I'm aware,” McCoy grumbled. He had another spoonful of soup. “Where the hell is he, Jim?”

 

Jim sighed loudly. “I dunno, Bones. I don't have a clue what's going on with him.” 

 

McCoy looked at him quietly for a moment, waiting for him to continue. He could sense the dam walls about to break.

 

“I couldn't risk him as part of the rescue op, he's been edgy since you were gone. But I put him in sickbay so that he'd be with you when you woke and he just decided to ignore that! He's on the damn Bridge, ignoring every order I throw his way. He’s been utterly unbearable,” Jim sighed, running his hand through his hair.

 

“But he was here,” McCoy said slowly. “Unless I dreamt it, which is possible, but I swear I saw him when I arrived.”

 

“Yes,” Jim said, “Then you blacked out and landed on your bung knee and started bleeding and I hear you were remarkably vocal about how much pain you were in for an unconscious man. It freaked him out and he left. I've been telling him to work from here, but he's refusing to.”

 

McCoy sighed and reached for his cup of jelly.

 

“Ah,” Jim picked up the cup and held it out of reach. “Not yet.” He looked pointedly at his half finished soup.

 

“Oh, you're kidding me!” McCoy groaned.

 

“Chapel was very clear, you finish your soup first,” Jim said with an attempt at a stern look.

 

“Jim, I've just been alone for three weeks, my boyfriend is AWOL, I'm not hungry anymore and I want my jelly!” he whispered angrily.

 

Jim tried very hard not to smile, but failed. “Bones,” he said with a chuckle, “Chapel is in charge, and she says eat your soup.”

 

McCoy crossed his arms, realising how petulant he must look but not caring. “It's my sickbay, I'm in charge,” he mumbled.

 

Jim ducked his head and coughed unconvincingly. “She's somewhat more intimidating right now,” Jim said.

 

 

McCoy huffed his displeasure, but he recognised a reasonable medical order when he saw one and had another spoonful of soup, glaring daggers at Jim the whole time. 

 

Jim grinned and opened his mouth. McCoy interrupted him before he had a chance to speak and said, “No smart comments, Kirk.”

 

Jim raised his hands, signalling peace. “Look,” he said, somewhat more seriously. “If you want me to drag Spock down here by his ears, I will. But I think you should let him find his own way.”

 

McCoy nodded, still reluctantly shovelling soup into his mouth. 

 

“If he takes too long, though, I’ll whack him. He’s been pissing me off lately,”Jim offered sourly.

 

McCoy glanced at him seriously. “What’s he been doing?” He grunted.

 

Jim grumbled to himself for a moment. “Just, you know, not talking to me. Having a two week long panic and not asking for help. That kinda thing,”Jim muttered.

 

“Not checking if you were ok?” McCoy asked softly.

 

Jim nodded. McCoy sighed and gave Jim a sympathetic grimace. “I hate it when he does that, too,” McCoy said. “You want me to talk to him about it?”

 

“No,” Jim sighed. “I’ll handle it.”

 

“Thank God, I really didn’t want to deal with that,” McCoy said quickly. 

 

Jim laughed briefly and sat back, quietly watching McCoy finish off the bowl. When he was done, McCoy yelled out, “Chapel!”

 

Christine’s face appeared in the window and McCoy held the empty bowl up triumphantly. She smiled and gave him thumbs up. 

 

McCoy put the bowl down and ignored Jim's highly amused expression. “Now gimme my damn jelly,” he said, grabbing it from the chuckling Captain.

 

“Jim,” McCoy muttered while focusing on getting every morsel of sweet jelly from the cup.

 

“Yeah, Bones?”

 

“Don't let me be alone here, ok?” 

 

“Sure thing, Bones.”

 

“I mean,” McCoy paused, then forced himself to continue. “I'm gonna fall asleep soon, I don't care who's here, but I don't want to wake up alone.”

 

Jim grabbed his hand, making McCoy look up at him. Jim looked heart broken. He nodded quickly, still staring into McCoy's eyes. “‘Course, of course. You won't be alone, Bones.”

 

McCoy smiled. “Don't get emotional on me now,” he said sternly, trying to lighten the mood.

 

Jim started to stand up. “I think I'm getting emotional, Bones,” he warned, grinning.

 

“No,” McCoy said.

 

Jim started closing in on him for a hug. “I'm emotional, Bones, hold me!”

 

“Jim, get off!” McCoy gasped, finding himself enclosed in Jim's strong arms. Jim held him carefully until he stopped struggling and awkwardly patted Jim on his side, the only part he could easily reach. 

 

Jim stayed there, stroking McCoy's hair softly. McCoy felt his eyes welling up and decided to actually put an end to this. “Ok, kid,” he muttered, pushing on Jim's arm to knock him off.

 

Jim leaned back and sat down. McCoy quickly wiped his eyes and looked up, mildly startled to come face to face with Jim's own water filled eyes.

 

“I missed you an awful lot, Bones,” Jim said quietly. 

 

Bones tired to respond but found his voice stuck. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Missed you too, Jim. More than I can say.”

 

Jim smiled sadly. After a few moments of charged silence he coughed. “It's good to have you back onboard, Doctor,” Jim said, his wide eyes still showing the emotion behind the professional statement.

 

“Good to be back, Captain,” McCoy said. “Damn good.” He yawned and glanced around. “Any chance of some coffee?” he asked.

 

Jim smiled. “I think you're better off just going to sleep. Someone’ll be here when you wake, don't worry.”

 

McCoy nodded. “Thanks, Jimmy,” he murmured. He lay down to settle into bed, instantly comfortable despite the various bandages and slings. It was a sight better than his sleeping condition had been on the planet, so sleep came to him quickly. 

 

As he dozed off he saw Jim settling in, he had picked up a Padd to review and left his free hand on McCoy's wrist, his finger casually falling into the perfect spot to take McCoy's pulse.

  
  


\----------

  
  


When McCoy woke up next it was to Christine shaking him. He grumbled and moaned and just generally bitched while she dragged him off towards the large tub full of gelatinous gel. After a brief disagreement regarding the gift that was seeing McCoy's dick, McCoy stripped and got in. Christine had pointed out that she'd seen him butt nude so many times in the last three days they were bordering on an inappropriate workplace relationship. The gel was cool and loosened his skin, a discomfort he hadn't noticed, but was immensely relieved to have it gone. 

 

The bath was all too short, McCoy had fallen asleep briefly while submerged (the discomfort of breathing apparatus he had on hadn't been enough to keep his exhausted mind awake).

 

Christine was happy with how much sleep he was getting, pointing out that it meant his body was making an effort to heal. McCoy agreed, but still wished he had the presence of mind to enjoy himself now that he was back. She also took the opportunity to congratulate him on his relationship.

 

“You don't mind?” McCoy asked, fully aware of Christine’s crush on Spock.

 

“Oh, I never really wanted a relationship with him. I didn't want a relationship with anyone, I just needed a distraction from losing Roger. I never expected Spock to return my feelings.”

 

McCoy smiled at her, entirely relieved. “Who're you gonna crush on now that Spock's taken? I think Scotty’s about as disinterested in a relationship as a man can be, you'd be safe there,’ he suggested.

 

Christine smiled. “I think I may have already picked someone inadvertently. Not exactly a safe crush, but with Roger gone now it doesn't have to be. I'm sure you'll figure them out, I'm hardly subtle in my affections,” she said happily, pushing his bed from one station to another.

 

“Let me know if I can help, dear.”

 

After a lengthy eye laser procedure in which he couldn't speak McCoy was pronounced no longer in need of further surgery, and simply had to remain in sick bay for another day or two until he could be released to his room. Providing there were no further complications, and he got back up to a reasonable weight McCoy could be back on partial duty.

 

McCoy held that comforting thought close as he drifted off to sleep.

  
  


\----------

  
  


McCoy woke up again, groggy and confused. He knew where he was instantly this time, no confusion about ship versus planet, but had a moment of difficulty remembering if he should be in his room or sickbay. The incessant beeping of the life monitors told him where he was, specifically.

 

He glanced around for his promised company. Scotty was sitting in a generous chair by the foot of his bed, head tipped back, fast asleep. McCoy cracked a smile.

 

“Scotty,” he called. Scotty didn't budge. McCoy kicked him. 

 

It took some more effort, but Scotty eventually awoke. He was sleepy but cheerful, and McCoy finally got to enjoy a casual, funny conversation with a friend. They trash talked each other over Scotty’s explosive shuttle craft rescue effort and Scotty admitted to not getting that checked off by Jim who was very annoyed about it. McCoy had a good laugh at that, as least he could trust Jim to tear into Scotty on his behalf.

 

They were cut short, however, when Christine arrived and requested a discussion on how to tackle his stomach wounds. 

 

Scotty left early in the conversation, the medical jargon beyond him. M’Benga and Christine wanted to play it safe, clean his wounds and apply a cream. McCoy was suggesting something just shy of replacing his stomach. 

 

The three squabbled for a while and eventually settled on a compromise suggested by M’Benga. Remove all clearly infected tissue, and trust the cream to do the rest. They just had to synthesise a cream that worked. 

 

They gave McCoy a mini lab on a tray to trial a few things. He very much enjoyed being back among his science. He made some headway but fell asleep before getting very far. 

 

By the time he woke again, Christine was there with the cream in hand. It hurt. It hurt like hell.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, just while we're here, my headcanon is that Scotty fancies Uhura, but they don't want a relationship while they're doing their career stuff, so he's just leaving it be. She would've been willing but is totally down for not dating and the two slip into a very healthy and supportive friendship. In the mean time, Chapel develops a crush on Uhura and the two of them start dating. It goes well for a good many years (Scotty is hugely in favour of this relationship, he loves all his friends and wants good things for them) but they start to struggle when it becomes clear that Chapel wants to work on Earth in a xeno-hospital, whereas Uhura is nowhere near ready to leave space. It's a few years after their breakup when Scotty and Uhura get together.  
> Scotty is asexual and demi romantic, Chapel doesn't give a fuck about gender, Uhura is bi with a strong preference for ladies. That's just me tho!!! I just wanted to explain what I was hinting at here.


	6. Chapter 6

McCoy cracked his eyes open. He felt as if no time had passed, but then he never did dream while on pain meds. A shame, he'd heard some patients had psychedelic dreams. He stretched his neck and sighed. He had no idea what time it was, he made a mental note to install a clock.

 

He heard some fabric shift and turned to see who was on watch duty now. 

 

“Spock?” he whispered.

 

Spock was staring at him, his eyes glittering in the dim room. He shifted again, his hand moving from the arm rest to his lap. McCoy had a strange feeling that until he had woken Spock had been holding his hand.

 

McCoy felt his eyes tear up, but he pushed the pathetic response down. “You're here,” he said simply.

 

“Yes,” Spock whispered.

 

McCoy blinked. He felt lost, he felt like Spock had just flung him into a glass abyss and told him to climb out solo. When he'd been in school his dad had taken all of his belongings for a week to teach him a lesson about taking things for granted - a response to an overblown tantrum by him earlier. He felt like that, like some fundamental expectation he'd had of his life has been taken. But he was even angrier because he could in no way see how this could teach him something useful, like his father had.

 

Spock cleared his throat. “Ah, how are you?” he asked.

 

McCoy nodded. He was furious but he knew that wouldn't help the situation. He'd give Spock the benefit of doubt and maybe they could sort this out like adults.

 

“Li’l worse for wear. How are you?” he asked carefully.

 

“I'm…” Spock trailed off. He looked sick. Spock stood up quickly, startling McCoy. “Excuse me,” he said very politely and bowed slightly. He turned on his heel and began to walk slowly to the door.

 

“Hey!” McCoy yelled after him. “Don't you dare leave!” He swore and turned to the drip still wired into his arm. Carefully but quickly he disengaged the tubing, a few drops of blood falling before he tightened the end. He leapt off the bed and chased Spock down.

 

Spock had stopped by the door and was looking at him aghast. “You cannot remove your-”

 

McCoy slammed him against the wall with his good arm, his forearm across Spock's upper chest. He breathed heavily leaning his weight into Spock, desperate to keep him in the room. “Where the _fuck_ have you been?” he spat.

 

Spock's eyes widened and he looked truly frightened. McCoy was struck with a bolt of guilt and relaxed his arm, still holding Spock in place but not so forcefully.

 

“ I expected you to…” McCoy trailed off, looking helplessly at Spock. “To _be_ _here_ , damn it.”

 

Spock closed his eyes and breathed in carefully through his nose. As he breathed out he opened his eyes and McCoy was struck by just how sad he looked. 

 

“I'm sorry that I disappointed…” Spock trailed off, clearly undecided about what he should say. “It has been difficult.” He glanced at the ground. “I was - I _am_   scared.”

 

McCoy stared at him. “ _You_ were scared? Spock, I was the one who was about to die. I needed you when I got back here.”

 

McCoy stepped back, suddenly wanting to distance himself from Spock entirely. “I can't - I don't know how to deal with you right now,” McCoy muttered.

 

Spock looked like he'd been slapped. “I wished to be here,” he said hurriedly, “But after time and time again of hearing you die on that planet I just couldn't watch it happen.”

 

“I didn't die, Spock!”

 

“‘ _I've been attached by a bird, I'm in recovery mode._ ’” Spock said angrily, pushing himself off the wall and walking furiously around the room. “The night you sent us nothing by way of transmission. ‘ _I don't know how much longer I can do this.’ ‘Why is survival so difficult_ _?’_  I listened to you scream with no knowledge of why, then sat, helpless, as you popped your shoulder in and nearly bled out overnight.”

 

McCoy watched silently, floored by Spock's furious and emotional outpouring. His hands were in shivering fists and McCoy was startled to see Spock's eyes glassing over.

 

“I listened to your death so many times. I honestly believed it. The night you did not contact us I began to mourn your loss. Then you were successfully rescued and I had hope and reason to believe you may survive then you're returned to me and you pass out, moaning in pain, bleeding on the floor, shivering.” Spock stopped, his chest heaving. “I had dreamt it so many times, I knew what witnessing your death would do to me and I just couldn't.”

 

McCoy was silent for a moment. “Spock,” he said softly, with no idea how to finish.

 

Spock faced him properly. “I will be ok, I just need to meditate. I was leaving to do precisely that.”

 

“You can meditate here, you bucket of rocks!” McCoy yelled. 

 

Spock looked at him guiltily. There was a tense silence as McCoy glared at him. McCoy felt his eyes prickling and willed them to stop.

 

“I'm sorry,” Spock whispered.

 

McCoy crossed his arms and shrugged. “For what?”

 

Spock took a few swift steps towards him and raised his hand, his fingers hovering next to McCoy's cheek, not quite touching him. “I'm sorry,” he said. “I am truly sorry I wasn't here when you woke.”

 

McCoy sighed and tipped his head to the side, resting his cheek on Spock's hand. Spock's thumb stroked lightly along his cheekbone.

 

“I would like to kiss you,” Spock said.

 

McCoy smiled slightly. That was comforting to hear. 

 

“Too bad, honey, I haven't had half my share yet,” he said. “First off, I'm sorry about some of the stuff I said while I was down there. You didn't need me laying my emotional shit storm on you. In my defense, I didn't know you could hear me for most of it.”

 

Spock's eyes clouded over in horror at the memory.

 

“But,” McCoy continued, “That's no reason for you to abandon me when I got back. I was relying on you, and that was awful to wake up to. I didn't know if you still wanted me or what. I had no communication with you, Spock, I have no idea what's been going on in your damned head! You got to listen to me wax poetical, but I got nothing from you so I just _don't know_ where we are!”

 

Spock looked at him, ashamed. “I do not have a response that will excuse me,” Spock said. “I was panicked.”

 

McCoy spread his arms in frustration. His shoulder twinged at him. “We're still good, though? We're still dating fine?” he asked, disappointed in the sliver of panic that seeped into his voice.

 

“ _Yes_ ,” Spock said with the first certainty that night. “That is,” he hesitated, “If you'll still have me.”

 

“Of course I'll still have you, Spock, Jesus!”

 

They looked at each other, both scared but McCoy's anger hiding his fear. 

 

“You've got a lot of damage control ahead of you,” McCoy said, pointing angrily at Spock.

 

Spock nodded. “Anything.”

 

McCoy smiled, recognising Spock's desperation. “We can talk about it later, I think,” he offered. “You still on for that kiss?” McCoy asked.

 

Spock nodded again, his eyes wide.

 

McCoy’s smile grew and he leant in slowly, resting his hand on the back of Spock's neck. Spock leant forwards but stalled, letting McCoy finish the distance. 

 

McCoy's lips brushed Spock's, he could feel the other man's even breaths to his shaky breathing. His eyes flitted up and he drank in the sight of having Spock so close again. He finally leant in, deciding he'd teased himself enough. 

 

He kissed Spock softly. Spock opened his lips quickly, kissing him back hesitantly. McCoy tightened his grip around the back of Spock's neck and Spock relaxed into him, kissing him with a calm passion. 

 

Spock slowly began to kiss him more forcefully, his lips harsher, his teeth coming into play. McCoy was only too happy to match him and nipped back, forcing his body flush with Spock's. 

 

When McCoy pressed against him, Spock seemed to snap. One of his hands lost itself in McCoy's hair while the other went to his hip, guiding and pushing the slimmer body against the wall behind them. McCoy grunted when he hit the wall, a spark of pain filtering through his medication. 

 

Spock didn't notice his brief discomfort and continued kissing him, getting more into it than ever. McCoy returned in full force, his wounds forgotten, and bit at Spock's lip, eliciting a shudder that ran down Spock's entire body. McCoy grinned into Spock's mouth, pleased with how easy it was proving to get a reaction.

 

McCoy gripped Spock's hair tighter and pulled his head forwards, kissing him furiously. He had intended to be playful but quickly his anger fell across him and he found himself holding Spock possessively and biting him as much as he kissed him. Spock returned the emotion, his hand on McCoy's hip cutting into him and his other hand trailing down from McCoy's neck, feeling every piece of McCoy in it's path.

 

As his hand glided past McCoy's abdomen, Spock faltered. McCoy cracked his eyes open and looked at him, confused. Spock drew his head back, accepting a quick peck on the lips from McCoy as he did, and looked down between them.

 

“No,” Spock moaned weakly, shaking his head with suddenly wide, dread filled eyes. He staggered back and his hands entered McCoy's view.

 

Spock's hands were peppered with red blood. McCoy looked down and saw his gown front streaked with a slowly growing blood stain.

 

 

“Ah, shit,” McCoy muttered. Christine would have his head for this. He looked up and saw Spock standing completely still, staring at his bloodied hands.

 

“Spock,” McCoy said. Spock didn't respond. “ _Spock_ ,” he repeated, louder.

 

Spock looked at him in absolute terror. His hands were shaking again. 

 

“Spock, it's alright,” McCoy said carefully. He was pretty thrown by Spock's reaction and didn't really know how to handle a highly emotional Vulcan.

 

“Spock, darling,” McCoy could hear the fear in his voice and hated himself for it. “I'm fine, don't worry.”

 

Spock glared at him, his hands still spread in front of him. “You're _bleeding_ ,” he hissed.

 

“Yes,” McCoy said, “But we're in medbay.” He stepped forward to try and comfort Spock, but he swayed backwards to avoid McCoy's touch.

 

“Fine,” McCoy grumbled. “Go get Christine, she's kipping in my office.”

 

Spock looked at him blankly. “You should not be left alone.”

 

McCoy sighed. “I am not going to bleed out, I promise. I'll get back in bed, you get Christine.”

 

Spock nodded jerkily and walked to his office door. He watched McCoy the whole time. He finally turned away at the last moment and, leaving the door open should McCoy call, he left the room.

 

McCoy sighed again, exasperated with Spock and his own injuries. He'd bled enough in the last fortnight to last him a lifetime, he thought.

 

McCoy carefully maneuvered himself back into his bed, trying his best to keep his blood off the sheets. He started on reconnecting the blood filtration system, it would replace any lost blood - not that he'd bled all that much - and he shouldn't really have disconnected it in the first place.

 

While he was fumbling with the tubing connection, Christine stalked in. “You got out of bed?” She asked, pissed off. “I shouldn't have to tell you how idiotic that was, but I guess I have to!”

 

She pushed him harshly back to lying down, snatched the tubing off him and smartly fixed the connection. “You are unbelievable,” she muttered. She tore his gown off, disregarding his annoyed exclamations at her lack of propriety. “Oh, don't try that humility shit with me, this is your fault.”

 

While Christine unwrapped his bandages to get a look at the damage, McCoy glanced over at Spock. He was standing against the wall another bio bed over. He was clutching the hem of his shirt tightly, his knuckles white, and staring at them in a wide eyed horror.

 

“ _What_   you were thinking, I don't know,” Christine muttered as she walked off to get some cloths to clean up. McCoy smiled sheepishly at Spock. Spock didn't react.

 

Christine came back and begun to wipe his abdomen. She took great care around his wounds but anywhere his blood was and he wasn't wounded she was needlessly rough. McCoy elected to not complain and just took the punishment. Christine was frightening him a bit.

 

“We haven't closed these yet, Leo, it'll be at least another day before you can go walking about. And letting him, Spock, I-”

 

“This isn't Spock's fault,” McCoy interrupted. She looked at him seriously and McCoy shook his head, willing her to drop it.

 

Christine’s expression softened slightly. “Very well, then.” She glared at them both, her moment of compassion past. “Don't let it happen again.”

 

“Of course,” Spock said stiffly.

 

McCoy rolled his eyes and agreed. Christine nodded at them, appeased. She walked off to get replacement bandages and the gel they were using to encourage his body to heal.

 

“Spock, c’mere,” McCoy said. Spock obeyed meekly. “Darlin’, this next bit’s gonna sting a bit, so you should go off and wash your hands.”

 

Spock shook his head. “I should stay,” he said.

 

“No, I'll be fine. Go wash your hands and maybe throw the blue shirt out, the blood’ll just distract you.”

 

Spock glanced down and looked dismayed by how red his shirt was. There wasn't really that much blood but Spock had managed to spread it impressively in his panic. 

 

“Call out if you want me back,” Spock said. McCoy nodded and watched, relieved, as Spock walked off to the bathroom.

 

Christine walked back in, carrying the dreaded gel. She patted his stomach down once more then uncapped the bottle. She glanced at McCoy with a brief moment of pity. “You ready?” 

 

He nodded. “Quit stallin’, you sadist,” he said through gritted teeth.

 

She smiled, amused, and squeezed a generous dollop onto her glove. She quickly spread the gel around his belly, focusing on pushing it towards the worst of his wounds.

 

McCoy hissed, gritting his teeth to keep quiet. The gel stung in an endless, cold burn. Every time it seemed to be waning he would relax and a new wave of pain would hit him. 

 

“Still think we should be usin’ the injection,” McCoy groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. He could feel his nails cutting into his palms and tried to focus on that pain instead. 

 

“It's not as effective,” Christine murmured, petting his face with a cool towel.

 

“Both,” McCoy said briefly. He felt a few tears slip through his shut eyes and ignored them. He felt no shame in crying from physical pain. 

 

“We'll talk to M’Benga in the morning,” Christine offered.

 

McCoy accepted that as a win. Anything to get this fixed soon.

 

After what felt like too long, but was perhaps a minute, the pain did start to wane. McCoy unclenched his hands and forced his eyes open. “Think it’s good,” he muttered.

 

Christine nodded and quickly sprayed his body with disinfectant then began replacing the bandage. 

 

Spock walked back in wearing his blacks and quietly pulled up a chair and sat down next to McCoy. McCoy rolled his head to the side and smiled warmly at him.

 

“Mr. Spock,” Christine said, finishing up with the bandage. “I realise you haven't been present during the discussions detailing Leo's injuries.” 

 

McCoy was mildly amused by the sly dig there. 

 

“I'm happy to take you through it now so that he can't misinform you,” Christine offered with an unimpressed glance at McCoy. 

 

Spock nodded, “That would be preferable.”

 

McCoy laughed. “Do I get no one on my side?” he asked.

 

“If you think we're not on your side, you are wrong,” Christine hissed. She was still angry with him for coming back so hurt. Poor woman had been the only one to really see him at his worst, everyone else had seen him post painkiller and adrenaline, the majority seeing him only after he washed. He knew he'd frightened her.

 

Christine began describing his various injuries and how he'd been healed thus far. His broken toes and sprained ankle hadn't been a problem to fix, but his knee was somewhat more serious than they'd hoped and he still had a compression band there. The hairline fractures on his hip had been a surprise to McCoy, but were easy to fix and weren't a lasting issue. It was a clear sign of how exhausted and hurt he was that he hadn't noticed the pain there, though. 

 

His abdomen was still a problem, the bird that attacked him had some very strange properties on it's talons and the injuries were refusing to heal normally. While on the planet there had been nothing McCoy could do except bind his stomach up. There were signs of his attempts to stitch them closed (something McCoy never wanted to try again, it had felt torturous and inhumane) but the stitching hadn't kept its strength with the ongoing acid his wounds were producing. Due to the week and a half the injury had been there they had healed over incorrectly first which made life infinitely more difficult. 

 

They'd ended up carving out an alarming amount of McCoy's skin to remove all infected tissue. That which could be saved was, but the damage was extensive. The wound was now theoretically free of the bird's influence, but they had noticed some concerning acidic levels concentrated in the area, hence the gel he had applied with every bandage change. The gel was an aggressive acid that would battle the bird's residue, but not hang around itself. It did hurt him a bit, hence the pain when applied, but it hurt the bird's acid more. Their theory was basically that if they successfully heal over the injury, the bird will be finally defeated. In any case, his abdomen was finally healing again, albeit slowly, and he was feeling better, so things were looking good. Future complications would be dealt with as they arrived. 

 

All of McCoy's superficial injuries - cuts, bruises, grazes, missing fingernails - were a non issue and had been healed. His shoulder was still a mild problem, but should be healed in another day. They could rush it, but given he was here anyway they might as well play it safe and let him heal naturally. His numb pinky and turned out to be a mysterious plant sting, but it was a type they'd handled before so it was only briefly a concern before they'd identified the fix. 

 

They'd found some minor damage to his eyes and skin, the sunlight had been strong on uvb radiation, but that had just meant an hour submerged in a specific liquidised gel to heal his skin and some quick eye laser surgery. McCoy had actually had a very pleasant nap submerged in the tub.

 

His blood had all been recycled through a machine so he was free of any alien residue there. A detailed body scan had shown up a few parasites, each of which had been dealt with. He wasn't back to solid foods yet, but they were close.

 

His basic rules could be summarised to No Unnecessary Movement. This was a step up from No Movement At All, where he couldn't budge his left arm and his knee had been raised. Now his shoulder was lightly bandaged and his knee essentially healed. His abdomen, however, was still quite fragile. So, McCoy had been very foolish to leap up and chase Spock down.

 

When Christine left Spock turned to look at him, clearly alarmed by the injury list.

 

“You attempted to stitch your stomach?” he asked after a moment.

 

McCoy smiled sheepishly. “It was freaking me out, I just wasn't healing and I couldn't figure it. Also, I don't think there was a moment after the first day when I was emotionally stable.”

 

Spock's eyebrows furrowed unhappily. “What did you use for the string?”

 

McCoy coughed, mildly embarrassed. “There was just some fishing lead in the emergency pack, so I used that. Used a fishing hook to get it in, too.” 

 

Spock looked at him sadly, clearly imagining the kind of state McCoy must have been in to even consider stitches.

 

“It was awful, Spock, I was just poking more holes in myself. I don't know what I was thinking.” McCoy looked at Spock, his eyes growing wide at the memory of his panicked state. He held his hand out and Spock quickly took it, stroking his thumb across McCoy's knuckles. McCoy enjoyed the familiar sensation. “I can't believe that used to be a valid medical practice, they should never have considered themselves doctors.”

 

Spock's lips twitched upwards. “To be fair,” he said with soft sarcasm, “They did numb the area, and use equipment made for the job. Not for fishing. And usually the patient in question had not been attacked by a mysterious alien bird with acidic properties.”

 

McCoy tried to glare at him but found his mouth curling into a smile. “Well, I'm never doing it again,” he said.

 

Spock glanced pointedly down at his bandaged body. “That may be best, you appear to have made quite the mess.”

 

McCoy chuckled there, his back curling in his mirth. “Oh, damn, Spock,” he groaned happily. Spock was watching him, clearly pleased with his response. 

 

McCoy smiled fondly at him and brought his hand, still intertwined with Spock's, up to his mouth and kissed him sweetly on the back of his thumb’s knuckle. 

 

“You alright then, dear?” McCoy asked.

 

Spock nodded. 

 

“S’just that you reacted pretty strongly to quite a small amount of blood there.”

 

Spock didn't say anything, but McCoy noticed his grip tighten on his knee. “Tell me, darlin’,” he asked.

 

Spock closed his eyes and McCoy immediately regretted pushing the issue. After a beat Spock opened them again. “I considered a great many possibilities surrounding the event of your return. That one was disarmingly familiar.”

 

McCoy nodded. “Nightmares are no fun,” he said softly.

 

“No they are not,” Spock muttered.

 

“Spock,” McCoy said, tugging his hand to ensure he had Spock's attention. “These injuries aren't going to get me. We're on top of it. I've certainly got a few psych issues to sort though, but I'll deal with that. Nothing fatal.”

 

Spock nodded, saying nothing. 

 

“Takes a bit more to kick me off my perch,” McCoy muttered, raising his eyebrows cheerfully. He yawned.

 

Spock sniffed. McCoy couldn't tell if it was amusement or not, Spock was staring at their joined hands, not him. “Do not tempt fate, Leonard,” Spock whispered. 

 

“You don't believe in fate,” McCoy said quietly.

 

Spock finally looked at him, his eyes sad. He leaned down and kissed McCoy softly on the forehead, his lips lingering. “No, I do not,” he said. “You're tired, go to sleep.”

 

McCoy nodded slowly. His eyelids had been growing heavy. “You'd better not try and leave again,” he muttered.

 

He fell asleep before he heard Spock's response.

 

\----------

 

Jim sat on his chair on the Bridge, looking around. Spock was now eight minutes late for shift. He'd commed his room and received no reply. The yeoman he'd sent to his quarters and engineering hadn't found him. He was about to call medbay on the off chance Spock had gotten in together and gone to see McCoy when Spock walked in.

 

“Mr. Spock, you're late. Is everything alright?” Jim asked. 

 

Spock walked straight up to Jim and bent down to have a more private conversation. “I apologise, Captain. I spent most of my night in medbay. The Doctor made it quite difficult for me to leave this morning.”

 

Jim nodded, giving himself some time to calm his victorious scream before it burst out. “That's very good to hear, Mr. Spock,” he said politely, as if he didn't want to stand up and do a power stance.

 

Spock stood quietly at his shoulder before finally asking. “Could I complete my shift in sickbay, sir? There will be no drop in my productivity and I will be at your service should my presence be necessary. I have a great many reports to catch up on from the sciences division, and that can be well performed from sickbay.”

 

Jim hid a smirk behind his hand. “Yes, Mr. Spock, that won't be a problem,” he said. 

 

“Thank you,” Spock said. He turned and fussed over his sciences console briefly, transferring the data he needed onto a Padd and left, nodding once more to Jim.

 

Jim sat back, very happy with this development. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's some sex in this one, consider yourselves pre warned.

McCoy was excited. He and Spock were finally, finally leaving sick bay. He was allowed to go back to his quarters for a night, to see how he goes. He was leaning on Spock's arm slightly, wishing it were less conspicuous but he was still very weak.l and tired. They passed a small number of people, each one grinned at him and he grinned right back. He was very glad to be out of sickbay!

 

They turned the corner to his corridor and McCoy felt his heartbeat speed up, which was fine, he was excited. It kept getting faster as they approached. He began to feel a bit clammy. Just as Spock was about to open his door McCoy stopped.

 

“Wait, wait,” he muttered. He let go of Spock and leant on the wall instead. “I'm panicking, I don't know why.”

 

“Why?” Spock asked.

 

McCoy glared at him, sure he looked even more threatening with the tinge of madness in his eyes. “Just shut up for a minute, Spock,” McCoy snapped. If he wasn't going to be helpful, at least he wouldn't make things worse.

 

McCoy sank to the ground, ignoring Spock. He was breathing heavily and could feel the tightness that preluded a panic attack. He managed to contain it, keeping his breaths even and calm. 

 

Once he'd regained control of himself he relaxed. “Why, why,” McCoy repeated quietly. He looked up at the roof. Spock was still standing in front of him, looking miserable and lost. McCoy looked Spock in the eye. “I…” he trailed off, still trying to figure out why he had freaked. “I was ready for sick bay, always knew I was going there, had some good fantasies about medicine while I was on Kaneeta. I thought about work a lot, work and sickbay. I did not spend much time imagining getting back to my room.” 

 

McCoy raised his hand to take Spock's. “Ok, so, I'm not emotionally prepared to get back to my- would you hold my damn hand, Spock!” Spock did so quickly, his hand darting out and grasping McCoy's. McCoy tightened his grip, holding on for dear life. “Not emotionally ready to get to my room, but I'm here now, so I should,” McCoy continued, his voice falling to a dread-filled whisper. 

 

McCoy changed his grip on Spock and pulled himself up to standing. They stood there looking at his door for a moment before McCoy sighed. “Would you get the door?” he asked, clearly fed up with Spock.

 

Spock opened the door and, still taking some of McCoy's weight, walked in with McCoy trailing behind. 

 

McCoy felt his breathing rate rise again and willed it to calm down, well aware that would do nothing. Everything in his room was how he'd left it. His boots were out, Spock's book was still by his bed, his pyjamas were still in a small pile by the bathroom. It was like he hadn't left. But he had, he'd been through hell and his room should reflect that. 

 

The door shut and McCoy spun to look at it. Between him and the door was his table, with the mission preliminaries for the trip down to Kaneeta. He heard himself moan, as if he were in pain. 

 

“Leonard?” Spock asked quietly. 

 

The room span slightly and McCoy noted mildly that he was definitely dizzy. He sank to the ground to avoid collapsing. What if he'd imagined the whole trip and he still had to go? No, that was just irrational. What if Jim asked him to go back? Jim wouldn't ask that, surely. But starfleet might, the assholes. He could hear Spock calling him, but there was a rushing in his ears and his skin felt both numb and tingly. He couldn't respond, not yet.

 

After a half minute and a few alarming waves of nausea, McCoy felt his body start to go back to normal. “Well, I figured out why I didn't want to come back here,” McCoy mumbled. 

 

Spock knelt down to his level. “Why is that?” he asked shakily.

 

McCoy ignored the emotion in Spock's voice, he really needed a stoic Vulcan right now. “Papers on the table,” he said, pointing weakly at the table.

 

“Shit,” Spock breathed. He spun around and quickly packed up everything on the table left the room. 

 

When the door closed behind Spock McCoy was plunged into another haze of fear. Not panic, this time, but a quiet empty feeling that filled him and made him sit completely still and alone. 

 

Slowly, he reached out and touched the carpeted floor, feeling the coarse texture. He didn't know if it helped, but he kept doing it, just hanging on for a moment. Had Spock just sworn?

 

A short while later Spock returned, having taken the offending papers somewhere else. He froze when he entered the room, staring in concern and confusion at the shivering man on the floor. He rushed to McCoy's side, his hand resting on top of McCoy's twisted and tense fingers.

 

“Leonard?” Spock whispered. “What happened?”

 

McCoy shook his head, his vision clearing. “Can't,” he muttered. He felt more than saw Spock turn his head curiously. “You can't leave me yet,” McCoy said softly, focusing entirely on controlling his voice, not letting it break.

 

Spock muttered something in Vulcan and McCoy found himself suddenly entirely humiliated. “M’sorry, Spock, m’fine, I'll be fine,” he whispered, pushing Spock away. His heart rate was still way up and he was shaking, but this didn't need to be Spock's problem. 

 

“No, no, Leonard,” Spock said, “Please explain this to me.” He held McCoy in place despite his weak attempts to get up. Spock began rubbing his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. 

 

McCoy snaked a hand around Spock's neck and felt his hair, letting the texture calm him.

 

Spock accepted the peaceful moment and let McCoy take his time. “Ashayam, tell me,” he whispered after a minute. 

 

“Ashayam,” McCoy repeated under his breath. Spock shuddered and held McCoy tighter. “What was blue, again? Plakkar?”

 

“Pla-kur,” Spock said softly.

 

McCoy smiled. “And green?”

 

“Yar-kur.”

 

“Yar-kur isn't a very pretty word.”

 

“Shall I bring that up with the Elders?” Spock asked.

 

McCoy shook his head. They fell quiet for a few more moments while McCoy's breaths slowed to a reasonable rate.

 

McCoy sighed and started to stand up. “Reckon that's enough coddling for one night,” he grumbled.

 

Spock remained seated, watching McCoy closely. “Are you able to explain the incident so that I may avoid it happening again?” he asked mildly while McCoy made a show of dusting himself off.

 

“Aah,” McCoy stalled. He quickly checked his stomach, no blood, all good there. “I don't need company all the time, but, you know, a bit of warning would be nice.” He glanced at Spock, who was clearly taking care to not respond without consideration. “I mean,” McCoy said awkwardly, “I was alone for nearly three weeks, we can expect the odd attack of abandonment issues to hit.” McCoy glared at the roof. He glanced back down at Spock again, who opened his mouth to respond. “I'll get it over it soon enough,” McCoy interrupted. “This won't be an ongoing thing, I swear.”

 

Spock had closed his mouth to let McCoy speak. He looked at McCoy for another beat, giving him a chance to continue.

 

“It's not like I even need to be with you specifically, I'm just not keen on being alone right now,” McCoy said, unable to help himself. Spock stood up while he kept ranting. “I mean, I can go crash with Jim if you want some time alone or have work or anything, I really won't take offence.”

 

Spock was looking at him seriously, letting him go on. 

 

“I mean, of course I want to be with you,” McCoy really couldn't stop now. “But we didn't exactly spend all our time together before I was away, and I'm sure you've gotten used to being alone now, but I've been kinda starved of human contact. And I need me some human contact. Or Vulcan contact. Actually, you're not as stony faced as usual, so if you want to get your Vulcan on, that'd be nice enough. But just, you know, be with me?

 

“No pressure, though! I don't want to be a pain. I just… Some company would be fucking ideal right now. And I can't really be all that stable at the moment, so I figured your Vulcan no-emotion shit would be helpful there and I could rely on you, but clearly you've gone through a pretty horrible time, so if you want me out so you can meditate or something, that's no problem. I have missed you, though. Oh, _God_ ,” McCoy moaned, putting his hands on his head. “I swear I'm not trying to manipulate you, or make this difficult, or make you feel bad, I just- I'm sorry.”

 

Spock raised an eyebrow, checking to see if McCoy was done. McCoy nodded sadly, avoiding making eye contact. Spock stepped forward and McCoy felt himself being studied.

 

“We should have a shower,” Spock said.

 

McCoy furrowed his eyebrows. “Um, what?”

 

Spock turned him towards the bathroom. “You are clearly conflicted and upset, a shower has always helped you calm down. It shall also make you... feel at home,” Spock said the last three words carefully, like they were a quote he was unsure of. 

 

McCoy nodded, still somewhat confused with this reaction. He obeyed Spock's gentle pushes towards the bathroom door. 

 

“Are you able to shower with your current bandages, Doctor?” Spock asked.

 

McCoy turned to face Spock once they were in the bathroom and pulled his shirt off. He forced the remaining fog from his head and looked down, entering a professional mindset and poking around at his bandages briefly. “Yeah, these are waterproof, and they're tight enough to keep my wound clear,” he said. He looked up and saw Spock staring at him. McCoy scratched his neck self consciously. “Aah, I might have a few new scars,” he muttered. 

 

“I was not staring at your scars, Leonard,” Spock said. 

 

McCoy grinned and ducked his head. He sat down on the edge of the tub, taking care to not knock any of the distillery equipment that was bubbling away there, and began pulling his shoes off. Once done, he stood, back to Spock, and undid his pants, letting them drop to the ground. He turned and faced Spock and was surprised to find him still fully dressed. 

 

“What're you doing?” he asked, spreading his arms wide. “Get your kit off!”

 

Spock looked at him, slightly startled. “I had not intended to…”

 

“What, you're just gonna watch me shower? Hell no, you said ‘we’ so we're both showering.”

 

Spock began to go slightly green. “I assumed, given that we have not done this before, that you would prefer the familiarity of showering alone,” he said, no longer gazing at McCoy's body.

 

McCoy smiled at him in bemusement. “I think any familiarity’d be ruined by having you sit here and watch me, so you might as well join in on the fun.”

 

Spock studied the tiled floor for another moment. “I have no alternative theory to offer,” he said. “You are sure?”

 

“Only you would want to offer an alternative, Mr. Spock,” McCoy said in fond exasperation. “I'm sure, please come and join me,” he said. He turned away and set the water temperature. Once the cubicle had fogged up slightly - McCoy liked his showers hot - he tugged his underpants off and stepped in.

 

He sighed as the water hit him. He spun on the spot slowly, letting the water warm him up. When the water fell on the back of his neck he moaned slightly. 

 

“Spock, this was a very good suggestion,” he called through the water streaming down his face.

 

 

“I'm glad,” Spock said from behind him. McCoy turned around to see him standing nude in the doorway to the shower, clearly not wanting to intrude.

 

“Would ya get in, you're letting all the cold air in,” McCoy grumbled.

 

Spock stepped in. “The ship is set to a standard temperature, the air should not be cold,” he said.

 

McCoy chuckled. “Compared to this, anything’s cold,” he said, holding his hands out to indicate the steam coming off the water.

 

Spock looked at him, unimpressed, but McCoy spotted the glint of amusement in his eyes. “That is so remarkably inaccurate, I am n-”

 

McCoy pulled him into the stream and kissed him. He smiled into the kiss, finally feeling comfortable and free again. 

 

He pulled back quickly, pleased to see Spock's eyes blissfully shut. “S’not too hot for you, is it?” he asked.

 

Spock opened his eyes and looked down at him. “I am Vulcan,” he said, somewhat breathily after the kiss.

 

“Don't I know it,” McCoy muttered.

 

“And Vulcan,” Spock continued , “Is a very hot planet.”

 

McCoy didn't know if it was the way Spock had said hot, the fact that they were both naked and steaming or simply that he hadn't come in three weeks, but he suddenly found himself quite horny and wishing he weren't bandaged up like a mummy.

 

McCoy laughed hesitantly and stepped back. “Might be testing myself a bit here,” he muttered. He was really resenting the unforgiving cycle that being aware of a boner just meant it got harder. He grabbed a lock of hair at the back of his neck and surreptitiously began tugging it, willing himself to calm.

 

Spock was being entirely unhelpful in McCoy's current attempts to turn himself off. He was flushed green, wet, naked, and would lick his lips every time he glanced at McCoy's cock. 

 

“How is your injury progressing?” Spock asked.

 

McCoy laughed quietly, that was a decent topic to sober him up. “It's going well, the wounds are closed, just a bit fragile. The acidic crap’s gone, it's just a general wound healing now, and that's pretty much good. The bandages are more for keeping it clean than anything.”

 

Spock's eyebrows twitched as if he were having a quick internal debate. McCoy watched him, confused.

 

“In that case,” Spock said slowly. He looked steadily at McCoy at walked towards him, pushing him softly against the wall behind him. McCoy gasped when his back hit the relatively chilly tiles. 

 

“Spock,” he said, not sure what he was trying to convey. Spock kissed him softly, his fingertips resting lightly on his hips. McCoy kissed him back, not sure where Spock was going with this, but very happy with where they were now. 

 

Spock kissed him sweetly for quite a while. McCoy found himself leaning into the kiss a few times only to be tenderly pushed back, Spock clearly indicating he was to control the pace. McCoy happily let Spock take over, enjoying the kisses, the warmth of the shower, the feel of Spock's muscles under his wandering fingers.

 

Spock eventually leant back, keeping McCoy against the wall. “May I?” Spock asked, glancing down meaningfully. 

 

“What, you want to…” McCoy trailed off, searching for a not incredibly lewd way of saying what he understood Spock to mean. “Suck me off?” He winced. That had not been a tactful word choice.

 

Spock raised a sardonic eyebrow at McCoy and nodded.

 

“Well, yeah, sure. I mean, hell if I ever say no to you there!” McCoy gasped out. 

 

Spock kissed him again. “You must watch me,” he whispered.

 

McCoy blinked, suddenly very clearly picturing Spock in position, the image going straight to his dick. “Where else would I damned well look?” he asked.

 

Spock breathed out in an amused rush. He kissed McCoy's jawline softly, moving to his ear. “I mean, should you see your blood, you must stop me,” he whispered clearly.

 

McCoy nodded. “‘Course, babe,” he gasped. Spock nibbled lightly on his earlobe then kissed him lightly on the side of his neck. 

 

Spock quickly sunk to crouching and, without any preamble, took McCoy's dick in his mouth. 

 

McCoy moaned heavily, his hands curling into fists. Spock sucked him like he wanted nothing else in his life, slow, hard and steady. Spock swallowed and McCoy groaned, his back curling as his head tipped back. 

 

Spock moaned, making McCoy groan again. Then, suddenly, Spock had pulled himself off. 

 

“Leonard,” he said. McCoy looked down at him, breathless. “You promised to watch me.”

 

McCoy hummed in agreement, unable to think of a response.

 

Spock smirked at him and slowly, maintaining eye contact, he licked the underside of McCoy's dick from base to tip.

 

“Oh, God, Spock,” McCoy moaned. Spock barely gave him a moment to recover before he was back to sucking McCoy's dick, his throat clenching around McCoy amazingly. McCoy rested a hand on Spock's head, not leading him anywhere, simply wanting to touch his hair and feel him move. 

 

Spock began to move faster, maintaining a startling amount of suction. “Fuck, Spock, I'm not gonna last much… longer…” McCoy gasped out when he could. Spock began using his tongue. McCoy didn't have the presence of mind to identify specifically what he was doing, but he knew it felt fucking out of this world. His hand in Spock's hair clenched, making Spock moan. His other hand shot out and found a wall, scrabbling for a purchase that didn't exist. “Spock,” McCoy warned, “Spock, Spock- _Oh!_ ” 

 

McCoy stopped breathing as he came, going quiet, his toes curling as all his muscles contracted. Spock forced his lips to the hilt of McCoy's dick and held himself there, letting McCoy come deep in his throat.

 

McCoy panted, trying to hold himself up. Spock swallowed with McCoy's softening dick still in his mouth and began to pull himself off. McCoy groaned, the sensation halfway between pleasure and pain, but entirely enjoyable. Once Spock was clear, McCoy fell to his knees and rested his hands on Spock's thighs. 

 

“That was somethin’ else, Spock,” McCoy gasped.

 

Spock smiled slightly at him and leant in for a quick kiss. McCoy kissed him back, letting Spock continue to set the pace. 

 

McCoy sat back on the ground after a half minute and let out a great, long sigh. “I feel alright,” he said.

 

“I'm glad,” Spock said. 

 

McCoy looked at Spock, taking the time to really read him. He was flushed green from the heat of the water. His chest was heaving slightly and his eyes were wide and shining. McCoy's eyes travelled down and saw that Spock's dick was hard and already poking out of his sheath.

 

McCoy raised his eyebrow. “Want me to deal with that?” he asked with a smirk, already readjusting his sitting to reach better.

 

“No,” Spock said, closing his legs. 

 

McCoy stopped and sat back, looking as Spock in confusion. “Why not?” he asked. 

 

“Not while you're injured,” Spock said seriously. 

 

McCoy spread his arms. “Spock, we just… did,” he said, gesticulating to his dick and Spock incase his meaning was unclear.

 

“It's one thing when I'm the active party, but I don't want you to push yourself.”

 

McCoy smiled at him, slightly touched by the concern. “Spock, I'll be fine, really. I'm barely hurt anymore.”

 

Spock tightened his lips and glanced at the ground. He steeled his shoulders and looked at McCoy. “There is no purpose to attempting to assure me. The fact of the matter is I am uncomfortable and do not want this.”

 

“Ok,” McCoy said, “That's fine. I'll take it easy for a few days, if that's what you need.” 

 

Spock relaxed, the change clearly visible in his shoulders. McCoy smiled sadly and leant forwards, kissing him on the forehead. 

 

“D'you wanna get out? I'm pretty tired, I could go for a nap,” McCoy suggested. 

 

“I am quite tired,” Spock admitted.

 

He must be to consider a nap, McCoy thought. He'd assumed Spock would read or meditate, which he usually did when McCoy napped. But then, Spock had mentioned nightmares, maybe he was entirely exhausted.

 

Spock stood up and turned the tap off before reaching down and helping McCoy up. They wandered out, each grabbing a towel and drying themselves off on the way to McCoy's bed. 

 

McCoy found he was half asleep by the time he climbed in, exhaustion catching him as soon as he'd remembered it. Spock slid in gracefully next to him and looked at him uncomfortably. McCoy decided he was too tired to discuss proper napping techniques with Spock right now and just pushed him onto his side, facing away from McCoy, and curled up behind him, spooning. Spock accepted the position and huddled back into McCoy. They fell asleep easily.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've got the next chapter more or less finished, and the one after started but uploads will be slowing down a bit now as I rush to write this shit :)


	8. Chapter 8

McCoy woke up slowly to the feeling of another body against him. He breathed in steadily and smiled, recognising Spock's smell and the feel of his ass against his hips. McCoy opened his eyes and looked down fondly at Spock. He was still fast asleep, some stray hairs across his forehead. McCoy nestled in closer, carefully squeezing his arm out from between Spock's so that he could brush Spock's fringe aside. 

 

McCoy slowly shifted himself up a bit to look down at Spock with greater ease. He had really missed waking up like this. Safe. His fingers hovered over Spock's face, not wanting to wake him, as he traced Spock's features. McCoy tapped lightly on Spock's lip, enjoying how soft he was. He ran his knuckles up Spock's jawline, now lightly dragging across his skin. He reached Spock's earlobe and he smiled. He traced the edges, slowing at the tip that was specific to Spock on this ship. His fingers continued across Spock's face, flitting along his eyebrows and nose. 

 

Spock sniffed and McCoy froze, not wanting to wake him. After a few moments it seemed like Spock wasn't going to wake. McCoy slowly lowered his arm, slipping back under the covers and resting on Spock's waist. He smiled down at Spock again, quietly watching him. He leant in and kissed Spock softly on the peak of his ear. Then again on the curve. Then his jaw and cheek and neck. McCoy moaned lightly with want. Not sexual, he only wanted to show Spock how loved he was. But he also didn't want to wake Spock. He lay back down behind him and nuzzled into the back of his neck, enjoying as his thin, frictionless hair fall about McCoy's eyes. McCoy gave him a peck on the back of his neck. Then another, this one lasting longer. He should stop, Spock had been clearly exhausted earlier. He tipped his head forward so that his lips were no longer hovering near Spock's skin and sighed softly.

 

“You may continue kissing me, if you wish,” Spock murmured after McCoy had stopped moving for a few seconds.

 

McCoy's eyes flew open and he raised himself enough to look down at Spock again. Spock's eyes were still closed. “Spock,” he whispered, “I didn't mean to wake you, go back to sleep.”

 

Spock began to shift, his eyes still shut. He rolled over, pushing McCoy back as he did so, wrapping them up in the bedding. They lay face to face and McCoy settled into his new spot, feeling quite bad for waking him.

 

“Go to sleep, I'm sorry,” McCoy said softly. 

 

Spock's eyes fluttered open. “I would rather not,” he muttered.

 

McCoy's left hand was trapped under Spock's head, so he curled it around to run his fingers through Spock's hair. “Why not, darlin’?”

 

Spock's eyes were slowly looking all over McCoy, openly drinking in the sight of the bedraggled man. “I have missed you,” Spock whispered.

 

McCoy opened his mouth to respond but Spock kissed him first. Short and sweet and before McCoy could properly respond Spock had stopped. 

 

“I have missed your eyes,” Spock whispered, so quiet that despite their proximity McCoy had to focus to hear him. “And your smile.” Spock's hand curled up under McCoy's chin, keeping their eyes locked and their faces close.

 

“I have missed the feel of your body next to mine. Your wit, your intelligence, your sympathy and forgiveness. I have missed your laughter and your anger.”

 

McCoy was staring at Spock, amazed and overwhelmed by the emotion in Spock's quiet voice. Spock closed his lips tightly and swallowed, his eyes shining in the dim light. “And I have missed your eyes, Leonard,” he whispered. 

 

Spock closed his eyes and tipped his head forward, resting his forehead against McCoy's. Spock drew in a shuddering breath and held it for a few beats before exhaling in a controlled rush.

 

 

McCoy could feel the tears in his eyes. “Spock,” he said under his breath. Spock looked at him, their foreheads still brushing. “I love you too,” McCoy said.

 

Spock's mouth opened slightly in surprise and McCoy suddenly felt very sure that Spock had not been trying to say that at all. Spock's thumb ran across his chin briefly then Spock kissed him, open mouthed and so powerfully McCoy felt it through his body.

 

Spock pulled away, his eyes wide as he glanced at McCoy's wet lips and bright eyes. “Yes,” Spock said softly. 

 

McCoy froze, shock evident on his face. Spock began to move slowly closer for another kiss and McCoy snapped into a state of sincere and total love he was surprised by. He pulled Spock's waist in, forcing their still naked bodies flush and kissed Spock full on the mouth. Their legs entangled as McCoy tenderly and deeply kissed Spock. Spock returned the emotion full force. McCoy had found that Spock seemed to accept kissing and sex as acceptable breaks in Vulcan control, they apparently didn't train him well enough to handle a southern gentleman with a wicked tongue. 

 

McCoy was not grinding on Spock so much as trying to pull him as close as physically possible, wanting more, wanting love. Spock's fingers unravelled on McCoy's neck, some feeling his jawline others resting on his pulse. Spock kissed him, not stopping for air beyond what was regretfully necessary. McCoy had never felt this warm.

 

His intercomm beeped, signalling someone at the door.

 

The two froze mid kiss, eyes closed, their hands desperately clutching the other. McCoy opened his eyes first, the kiss dissolving into nothing as they shut their mouths. 

 

“You've gotta be fucking kidding me,” he groaned. 

 

The intercomm beeped again.

 

McCoy pushed himself away from Spock, not enough to stop them touching, but enough that they couldn't feel every inch of each other's chests. He pulled his hand out from under the covers, moaning as if it hurt him to do so, and reached up, extending his body to hit the talk button on the wall panel above his bed. 

 

“What?” he snapped. 

 

McCoy was suddenly distracted as Spock began to lick lightly at his right nipple, which, to be fair, had landed itself directly in front of Spock's mouth. McCoy's finger slid to the side, switching the mic off. He gasped when Spock bit lightly on his nipple.

 

“Ah, it's Jim,” crackled from the wall panel.

 

Spock didn't even twitch, he kept kissing and nibbling McCoy's nipple. His fingers found his other nipple and McCoy moaned, staring wild eyed at Spock.

 

“It's dinner time, I thought the three of us could, I mean, assuming Spock's there… I brought us dinner,” Jim said.

 

“Shiiit,” McCoy moaned. Spock stopped his ministrations, looking seriously up at McCoy. “We should let him in,” McCoy said miserably.

 

“I agree,” Spock said. He kissed McCoy on the chest then leaned back, gesturing for McCoy to respond to Jim.

 

McCoy took a stabalising breath and flicked his mic back on. “Alright, you cock blocking bastard, get in here,” he said in defeated amusement. He pressed the button to open the door and shuffled back down, lying face to face with Spock again. 

 

Behind Spock he saw Jim walk in with three stacked trays. 

 

“Hey,” McCoy said, resting on an arm to greet Jim. “You alright to give us a minute? We'll be along soon,” he said, nodding his head towards the divide in his room. He had his table, replicator and drinks cabinet behind his bookshelf, to give himself the illusion of multiple rooms.

 

Jim was staring at them with a poorly disguised grin. He coughed. “Yeah, no problem. I'll set up,” he said happily. “Mr. Spock,” he said in greeting to the back of Spock's head.

 

McCoy looked down at Spock, who had his eyes closed and was very green. “Captain,” Spock said formally. 

 

Jim grinned outright and winked at McCoy. McCoy rolled his eyes. “Get out, boy,” he said. Jim nodded cheerfully and scampered off to the dining area, where he proceeded to make a lot of noise, giving them the privacy for a chat.

 

McCoy sighed again and fell back into bed with his hands behind his head and his eyes shut. He felt Spock shifting next to him. McCoy opened his eyes and found Spock sitting next to him, watching him with an unreadable expression.

 

McCoy smiled. “I do love you,” he said.

 

“I know,” Spock said softly.

 

“And I know you love me,” McCoy said.

 

“I'm glad,” Spock said, leaning down to kiss him. 

 

They kissed softly, shallowly, full of feeling. McCoy shifted his head after a few seconds, signalling Spock should stop. Spock did so and sat back, looking admiringly at McCoy. 

 

“Alright,” McCoy groaned. “Let's get dressed.” He curled his legs up and rolled out of bed, standing up quickly. He regretted the acrobatics when his abdomen quickly cramped and he winced, putting a hand on his bandage. 

 

Spock's fingers were instantly loosely wrapped around his wrists. McCoy opened his eyes to Spock's concerned gaze. “M’fine, it's just old age, not the injury,” he said, pulling a hand free until Spock's fingers trailed over his then doubling back and joining hands with Spock. “Thanks for not going straight to emergency mode, though,” he muttered.

 

“Does your wound hurt at all?” Spock asked as he climbed off the bed, still holding McCoy's hand. He pulled a sheet with him, evidently more concerned about Jim spotting them naked than McCoy was. 

 

“Nah, it's all good,” he said happily. He kissed Spock quickly then wandered off to his closet. “You can borrow something if you need,” McCoy offered as he pulled on some loose pants.

 

Spock shook his head. “My uniform is in the bathroom,” he said. He stood watching McCoy as he dressed for a moment longer. “I'll just be in the bathroom,” he said.

 

McCoy looked at him in confusion. “Yeah, I figured,” he said slowly. He noticed the serious and sad expression on Spock's face and remembered his breakdown when they got here. “Oh, right,” he said, “I'll not really be alone with Jim banging around everything I own down there, but thank you.”

 

Spock nodded at him, satisfied. He turned and walked off, the sheet trailing behind him.

 

McCoy grabbed an old orangish panel shirt and walked over to Jim, pulling it on as he did. “Jim,” he said cheerfully as he entered, still doing up his buttons. “How are you?”

 

“I'm good, how are _you_ ?” Jim asked, his eyebrows waggling. 

 

McCoy rolled his eyes again, smiling despite himself. “My injuries are clearing right up, thanks,” he said. “What's dinner?”

 

“Chicken and salad,” Jim said,” And that's not what I was asking! That's great news, though.” Jim put his fork down and slapped McCoy supportively on his upper arm.

 

McCoy grinned, still in a great mood and happy to share it. McCoy asked, “Can I actually talk to you about me and Spock?”

 

Jim nodded, “Yeah, if you want to, of course.”

 

McCoy glanced behind him and saw Spock's shadow still in the bathroom. He grabbed Jim's arm and pushed him a bit further into the mock kitchen. “I told him I love him,” he whispered quickly.

 

Jim's face softened and he looked and McCoy in a peaceful wonder, a smile playing on his lips. “Do you?” he asked after a moment. 

 

McCoy furrowed his eyebrows, mildly put out by the question. “Yeah, of course,” he said. 

 

Jim's smile widened and he looked at McCoy with a joy and pride that tinged on sadness. 

 

“What did he say?”

 

McCoy scratched his neck. “Well, not a lot, but he kissed me, and, you know, got a bit handsy,” he said. He could feel a blush forming as he remembered the sensation of Spock's tongue on his nipple three minutes ago.

 

Jim grinned at him. “Sounds like it went well,” he said. The replicator dinged and Jim turned towards it.

 

“Yes, but, Jim,” McCoy said quickly, leaning on the back of a chair and staring at Jim as he brought the recently replicated hot chips over. “I never saw this coming. Can you believe it?”

 

“Hmm?” Jim asked while he ate a chip.

 

“Can you believe I love Spock?” McCoy hissed.

 

Jim swallowed and seemed to be thinking. Instead of responding he grabbed another chip. McCoy sighed and turned away. 

 

Spock walked into the room and McCoy felt his mouth go dry. Spock had elected to wear one of McCoy's old t shirts. The one with the many holes in the hemming and the cartoon design of three ears of corn. And Spock looked adorable in it. 

 

Spock nodded at McCoy and glanced at the table. He looked up at Jim. “I can get drinks?” he offered.

 

Jim agreed and Spock walked past to the tap. “Bones,” Jim said. McCoy tore his eyes off Spock and looked at Jim. “I believe it.”

 

“Believe what?” Spock asked, walking back to them. He placed three glasses of water on the table.

 

McCoy smiled sheepishly. “Nothing,” he said. 

 

“That one's veggie,” Jim said, pointing at one of the settings. Spock nodded his thanks and sat down, taking the lid off his plate. 

 

McCoy and Jim settled in, investigating their food. McCoy dug in happily, glad to be eating.

 

“So, Spock,” McCoy said after the table had been quiet for a while. “Why my shirt?”

 

“Mine was wet,” he said. “I have put both our uniforms in for laundry.”

 

McCoy nodded absentmindedly, grabbing some chips.

 

“You two are positively domestic,” Jim said with a smile. McCoy tapped his fork on his plate, drawing Jim's attention and glared at him. Jim's smile just widened. Jim glanced over at Spock and his grin faltered slightly. He looked back down at his plate, still smiling slightly, but less.

 

McCoy glanced at Spock curiously, he didn't seem to be doing anything out of character. Then he remembered his brief conversation with Jim in medbay the other day.

 

“So,” McCoy asked casually, “What's been happening while I was gone?”

 

Spock glanced up at Jim, watching to see if he wanted to respond. Jim looked back at Spock, looking somewhat guilty. “Basic R and D for your rescue, really,” Jim said. “Spock spent most of his time in Engineering.”

 

McCoy nodded. “What’d you get up to while he was in Engineering?” he asked Jim.

 

Jim shrugged. “Read over a lot of mad mission proposals. Hung out with Nyota a fair bit.”

 

McCoy sighed and studied the two of them. “So,” he finally said, feeling like he was holding court. “The two of you decided to not help each other out through this.”

 

Spock looked at him sharply. 

 

“Oh, that's not fair,” Jim said. “We just dealt with it differently.” 

 

“You both dealt with it awfully. If I die, I've gotta know the two of you can pull your heads out of your asses and get along for it.”

 

Jim scowled, sitting back in his chair. “It was a fucked situation, okay? A lot of really shit circumstances.”

 

McCoy looked at Spock, who was looking seriously at his roast vegetables. McCoy sighed. “Alright, who wants to apologise first?” 

 

Jim's mouth fell open. “You're trying to making us apologise?”

 

“Doesn't make a lick of difference to me if you apologise, I just figure it'll get you two talking,” McCoy said.

 

“Well, we're not children!” Jim cried.

 

“You could've fooled me,” McCoy said sarcastically.  

 

Jim shook his head in angry amusement.

 

“Captain, you do not owe me an apology,” Spock said in the quiet that fell.

 

McCoy twisted to look at him. “Seriously, you too? You prideful idiots!”

 

Spock put his hand on McCoy's wrist, effectively silencing him. “However, I believe I owe you one. I have not had time to properly meditate on all my actions, so I cannot yet apologise for any specific incident, however I know I did not treat you with the respect you are due as my captain, nor the trust you are due as my friend. I shall endeavour to not repeat my mistake.”

 

McCoy felt quite smug at how productive that had been. 

 

Jim was flustered. “I - that's ok, Spock. Thank you. I definitely should have chased you down and forced us to talk, I just, well. I'm a bit lost with the whole dating thing,” he said, pointing awkwardly at them.

 

“Jim,” McCoy said, “I will tell you whatever you want to know.”

 

Jim studied him then asked, “Can I still complain about one to the other?” 

 

“Oh, please do. I need someone to talk to about all the shit he throws my way?” McCoy said.

 

“As do I,” Spock said, glaring at McCoy. 

 

“Darlin’,” McCoy said, looking sweetly at Spock. “There ain't a thing about me you don't love.”

 

Spock raised a questioning eyebrow, but let the comment slide.

 

“When are you telling the crew?” Jim asked.

 

McCoy glanced at Spock. “Sooner rather than later,” he said. Spock nodded and McCoy looked at Jim confidently. “But we want to discuss it properly with you first.”

 

“Who kissed who first?”

 

McCoy sighed. “Spock did,” he said grudgingly.

 

Jim grinned at Spock approvingly. “Who tops?” he asked happily. 

 

There was a beat of silence, then, “I do,” McCoy said. 

 

Spock sighed and glanced at the ceiling, as if wishing for an exit.

 

“And on that note, I'm going to the bathroom,” McCoy said over the top of Jim's laughter. He winked at an amused Spock and walked off.

 

He heard Spock telling Jim to be quiet and chuckled. He stood at the toilet, still able to hear the subdued conversation and smiled. Things were looking like they might work out after - and his piss was definitely the wrong colour. McCoy focused on his urine. Blood, absolutely blood. 

 

Damn.

 

There was a crash back to reality.

 

He sighed and tucked himself back in his pants. He ducked down to the compartment under the sink and pulled out a sample jar. He picked up enough of his bloody urine to work with and flushed the rest away. He slid the sample into his pocket and squared his shoulders.

 

He walked quickly back to Jim and Spock. 

 

“Spock, look at me,” he said when he arrived. Spock turned silently, he was holding a glass of water by the bench, and looked at McCoy curiously.

 

“I'm fine, you see? I'm standing, there's no immediate problem,” McCoy said. Jim was looking at him curiously too now.

 

“There's blood in my urine, we should go to medbay,” McCoy said quickly.

 

Spock and Jim didn't react for a moment. McCoy waited patiently, hoping they wouldn't panic.

 

“Yeah, sounds good,” Jim said with an air of forced casualness. He stepped forward and put a hand on McCoy's arm.

 

McCoy looked at Spock. “Honey?” he asked softly.

 

Spock nodded. “Yes, let's go,” he said evenly. He placed the glass he'd been holding on the table and approached McCoy. He'd gone half a step when the glass fell and crashed loudly on the ground. Spock stopped and turned, looking at the glass studiously. 

 

After a beat McCoy sighed. “C’mon, let's get moving,” he said. He waited a moment and Spock began to turn to face him. Once they made eye contact McCoy nodded at him and spun on his heel to leave, Jim staying behind briefly to make sure Spock was ok.

 

McCoy walked quickly out his door and towards medbay, trusting the two would catch up to him quickly. They caught him before he got halfway down the corridor.

  
  
  


\----------

  
  
  


Spock hadn't left his side since they'd entered sick bay. Jim had wandered off after about an hour, promising to swing by the next morning before his shift. McCoy was settled in for what was hopefully his last night in sickbay.

 

Spock sat by his side, reading his science teams reports on his Padd. McCoy was doing the same, but was reading a summary of the medical reports over the last three weeks to bring him up to speed. Christine had promised him he could be on partial duty tomorrow, as long as he kept out of the surgery and took as many naps as his body required. Assuming, of course, his body handled the night without problems. He had faith that his body would be fine.

 

McCoy's free hand was holding Spock's casually. He was feeling incredibly content to be displaying a level of affection in public. He, Spock and Jim had had a discussion and agreed to announce their relationship to the bridge crew the next day, and allow the natural gossip effect of the ship take care of the rest. They'd told M’Benga as he'd been looking over McCoy's internal bleeding efforts - easily fixed with a dermal regeneration unit - and in true M’Benga form he'd barely blinked. Of course, Spock had walked in wearing a t shirt that was very clearly McCoy's.

 

McCoy ran a finger absentmindedly across Spock's inner wrist. He heard Spock breath in sharply as he did. 

 

“You feeling alright, Spock?” he muttered.

 

“There is no call for rudeness, Leonard,” Spock said without glancing up from his Padd.

 

McCoy rolled his eyes and put his Padd down. “ _Feel_ is not a dirty word,” he said in put on annoyance.

 

Spock looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “No?” he asked. His eyes flickered down to McCoy's lips briefly.

 

McCoy studied him, bemused. “Are you flirting with me, darling? We're in sick bay, we can't get up to anything much here.”

 

Spock nodded slowly. “Yes, you're right,” he muttered.

 

“You're pretty on edge, aren't you?” McCoy asked softly.

 

“I don't know what you mean,” Spock said tapping his Padd against his knee.

 

McCoy paused, considering how to phrase his suggestion. “You can meditate here, you know? If you'd like to.”

 

“I would prefer to not miss any time with you,” Spock said quietly.

 

McCoy smiled. “I'll fall right asleep, I promise,” he whispered. 

 

Spock paused again, considering. “Very well, then,” he said after a few moments. He put his Padd on McCoy's bed and stood up to rearrange his chair. McCoy had managed to pull rank and get a generous and soft lounge chair as his guest chair. Spock pushed the chair so that it was facing the wall. 

 

“Need a hand?” McCoy offered.

 

Spock glared at him. “No,” he said meaningfully.

 

McCoy chuckled. Spock ignored him and pulled his shoes off before leaping over the arm of the chair to settle in to meditate. 

 

“That was very graceful,” McCoy said happily. 

 

Spock turned and looked at him dismissively. “Go to sleep, ashayam,” he said.

 

McCoy smiled at him. “Shall do,” he said. He leant over for a kiss but Spock quickly pushed him down.

 

“Take care, now,” Spock muttered. “It was your own over zealousness that caused your most recent bleed.” 

 

McCoy rolled his eyes in response and beckoned Spock over.

 

Spock leant over above McCoy and kissed him on the lips. 

 

McCoy slid his fingers through Spock's hair and pulled him close, kissing him back fully. Too soon, Spock pulled away. He gave McCoy one last sweet kiss before settling back into his chair. 

 

“Good night,” Spock said.

 

“Good meditating,” McCoy said, smiling. He liked being wished good night again. He instructed the computer to turn the lights off and lay down to sleep. 

 

Spock crossed his legs and rested his hands in his lap, straightening his back and letting out a long, soft breath. 

 

For the next few minutes McCoy lay in the dark listening to Spock. Between every breath he would whisper a different Vulcan word, getting steadily quieter until he finally achieved his first level of mediation and went silent, breathing softly.

 

Spock didn't usually meditate this way, he would normally have burnt some incense and allowed himself to slip naturally into his meditation, but in sick bay this method would do.

 

McCoy rolled his head to the side and gazed at Spock's dimly lit profile in wonder. How did he ever land this man, he wondered. This perfect, beautiful man.

 

McCoy sighed and slipped off to sleep, lulled on by Spock's steady breathing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm pretty sure this is my fave chapter tbh. Also contains the first pic I did for the series. Sorry it's been so long since the last update, it'll probably be longer before the next one <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this has taken me so long to post! To remind everyone, we left of with McCoy in med bay having found some blood in his urine, but it's nothing to worry about. Spock is meditating at his side.  
> Sex in this chap!

McCoy was walking down an Enterprise corridor with Jim, Spock and Scotty. They were talking and laughing, yelling happily over the top of each other. McCoy strolled along in the middle of the group, silent and enjoying the moment.

 

They turned a corner and the corridor wall turned a familiar and disarming orange. McCoy's friends went quiet, still whispering to each other but McCoy couldn't make out the words any longer. He was studying the orange wall, trying to remember why he recognised the shade. It put him on edge.

 

They turned another corner and the ground got softer, small pale yellow fern leaves littered the Enterprise floors. McCoy turned to tell Jim to send a cleaning crew down but found that only Spock was still with him. He smiled at Spock and kept walking. 

 

As they walked the walls changed texture and seemed to grow distant. Without any clear change of scene, McCoy found himself of Kaneeta. His eyes widened and he spun to hold onto Spock, but when he turned Spock wasn't there. There was no ship behind him, just more alien jungle. McCoy felt his panic rise and consume him entirely for a moment. He briefly saw himself searching for someone from a distance, like a bird watching the scene from a tree. The shuttle wasn't in sight and the wind was picking up. He called out for Spock to come back but his voice was whipped away from him by the wind.

 

Suddenly it began to rain. Large, hard drops hit him. The wind got stronger and stronger until he couldn't battle it. He put his arm out to protect himself and felt his shoulder dislocate. He screamed. His toes broke, his stomach was punctured, his knee wrenched, his finger stung. He fell to the ground, reliving every injury over and over and all together.  His ankle was twisted, his face cut, his fingernails torn off. He called out for Jim. His knuckles were grazed, his hip fractured, his head knocked around, his legs sliced. He yelled desperately for Spock.

 

Suddenly the wind cleared and he felt his body in dozens of pieces across the alien forest floor, like a broken china doll. He shifted to look up at the night sky. He could clearly see the Enterprise, it's shape recognisable even at this distance. He felt himself grow hopeful and calm, he would find a way to patch himself back together for them. As he watched it, it began to fly slowly away, then suddenly speed off into space. The small remaining parts of him dissolved into nothing and seeped into the cold, wet ground.

 

He was the dirt and the river. He was hopeless and empty and alone. He was shaking. He could hear someone saying his name but he was no one any more, lost without his purpose. He began to hold his breath.

 

McCoy opened his eyes suddenly, gasping desperately. He sat up, sucking air in like he hadn't breathed properly in years. 

 

He leant over his knees, his chest heaving, and observed with a cutting emotional distance that he was crying. 

 

He could hear someone talking to him, and after a beat he found the presence of mind to focus on the words, to comprehend them.

 

“You're ok, you're ok.” 

 

McCoy shook his head, still panting and sobbing. “Where?” he gasped.

 

“You're on the Enterprise, in sickbay, you're fine,” Spock said.

 

“Spock?” McCoy muttered. “Enterprise?”

 

“Yes,” Spock breathed. McCoy could feel his breath on his neck and realised that Spock was sitting next to him on the bed. 

 

McCoy groaned and tipped his head forward between his knees. He felt Spock's hands go hesitantly to his back, his fingers skating across the fabric of his shirt.

 

McCoy's breathing slowed and he felt up to opening his eyes again, not entirely sure when he'd closed them. He could hear the monitor beeping quietly and the general hum of the ship. Now that his breath had evened out he could hear Spock's shallow breaths next to him too. He was definitely back on the ship.

 

 

With a moan he leaned back and lay down in his bio bed. He pushed his hair away from his eyes and was unsurprised to have it come away dipped in cold sweat. 

 

Spock stayed sitting up, watching McCoy closely but keeping his body still. “Are you..?” he asked softly.

 

“Back in the land of the livin’,” McCoy said quietly. He still felt some vestigial misery from his dream. “Sorry I disturbed you,” he muttered.

 

Spock ignored his apology. “What happened?” he asked.

 

McCoy groaned again, stretching out his tense muscles. “Bad dream s’all,” he said. He patted Spock uncomfortably on the leg. His heart rate still had to calm down.

 

“Would you like to discuss it?” Spock offered.

 

McCoy sighed. “Not much to say. I was back on that damn planet. You guys left. ‘Bout it, really,” he said with a forced bravado. He was shaking and he didn't want to dwell on this.

 

Spock turned around to face him, one of his legs hanging off the side of the bed, the other curled under itself near McCoy. “We would never leave you behind,” Spock said.

 

“Clearly,” McCoy said with an attempt at cheerful sarcasm. When Spock didn't respond he sat up to face him properly. “I reckon you should have, though,” he muttered.

 

Spock's eyes went cold. McCoy raised his hand to push Spock's fringe out the way, intending to follow up with an apologetic kiss, but Spock's hand flew out and held his wrist tightly.

 

McCoy gasped, unprepared for the surprise. Spock's fingers tightened around his wrist. His lips began to form a slight snarl, but he said nothing. McCoy swallowed, worried he'd overstepped a serious line. 

 

After a few too many seconds of silence in which Spock's lips grew steadily tighter, McCoy spoke. “Aah, Spock? Hurting my wrist a bit,” he said softly.

 

Spock's fingers flew open, but he remained still. McCoy watch him in a mildly alarmed curiosity as he rubbed his wrist.

 

“Is that what you were referring to when you said _no don't_ ?” Spock whispered.

 

McCoy thought for a moment. “When did I say that?”

 

“While you were dreaming,” Spock said, barely moving his lips when he talked.

 

McCoy went quiet. He'd been talking through his dream, he hadn't done that since some successful psych sessions in high school after he'd announced his undying love for a girl different to the one in his bed. 

 

Spock let out a contained breath then pulled both legs onto the bed and faced McCoy, invading his personal space absolutely. “You may rest assured that this ship will never abandon you while I am onboard,” Spock said in a decisive voice. “You are integral to the wellbeing of the crew, and I mean that in both a professional and personal capacity.”

 

McCoy raised an eyebrow at that. He could feel Spock's words tugging at his heartstrings already, but ignored the welling emotion. He didn't know what he wanted, but it definitely wasn't the First Officer discussing what an asset his medical knowledge was. “Personal?” he prompted.

 

“You are a joy and a guide to Jim,” Spock said. “And you are the colour in my life.”

 

“Spock, I'm…” McCoy trailed off. “I'm not everything you and Jim crack me up to be.”

 

“You are ideal,” Spock said immediately. 

 

“I'm not, Spock, really-”

 

“What I know of you, and what I have yet to learn, has been and will all be beautiful,” Spock said over the top if McCoy's objections. “Believe what you will about yourself, but know that I will not leave you behind.”

 

McCoy was sure his eyes were alarmingly wide now. The light was dim in the room, but he could see Spock clearly, see every twitch of his eyebrows and how his hands were shaking slightly. Spock was still wearing McCoy’s old tee. McCoy didn't believe Spock, he knew there were circumstances that would make Spock leave him behind in the future, space has a way of throwing the worst at you. But he nodded, recognising that Spock wouldn't give up here.

 

Spock nodded back at him and slowly lay down next to him. They kissed briefly, McCoy too caught up in his own thoughts to focus on Spock.

 

“You are unconvinced,” Spock whispered.

 

“No, Spock, I do trust you,” McCoy said somewhat desperately. 

 

“You trust me, but this is too much.” Spock sighed and rolled onto his back. McCoy felt his heart ache, irrationally sure that this signalled the beginning of the end of his relationship with Spock. “No matter,” Spock said, “I will convince you in time.”

 

McCoy breathed a sigh of relief, his fear flying out the window. He curled his hand onto Spock's chest and felt it rise with his breaths. “You'd be the only one stubborn enough to manage it,” he muttered.

 

Spock turned his head and kissed McCoy again. “Go back to sleep, Leonard, I will stay here.”

 

McCoy nodded and let his his body relax. His mind kept whirring, but before long his exhaustion caught him and he fell asleep.

  
  


\----------

  
  


McCoy was feeling very proud of himself. He was sitting in Spock's quarters, on his own, having completed a day's shift, less than a week after being returned to the Enterprise riddled with holes. 

 

He was waiting for Spock to join him, he was very keen to hear how the Bridge crew had behaved after he'd left earlier. They'd told them they were dating. It took Spock and Jim's confirmation for them to believe it, but once they had Chekov had leapt up to shake their hands. Sulu had started grinning and had tried to ask Jim if they should be treating them any different, but kept getting distracted and entertained by Chekov’s questions. That they had been dating for four months seemed to fracture Chekov’s excitement as he stared at Spock in sympathy for his difficulties while McCoy had been missing.

 

All in all, the reception had been positive. Jim had ordered everyone back to their stations and told McCoy that he could kiss Spock no more than three times per visit. When McCoy languidly kissed Spock goodbye Jim added an addendum that the kisses couldn't be more than a second in duration. McCoy had rushed down to Engineering to tell Scotty in person before the ship's gossip stations did their work.

 

Scotty, it turned out, had known. He looked at McCoy like he was quite the fool. They usually left their bathroom doors open, but when McCoy had begun closing his Scotty had grown mildly curious and had kept his eyes peeled. Spock, it seemed, was not as subtle as he liked to think. 

 

Scotty was happy for them, and had offered to throw them a party. McCoy had said no but had an uncomfortable feeling that Scotty intended to do so anyway. 

 

His shift had been easy, Christine had taken the bulk of his work, leaving him to deal with fool ensigns and a few checkups. He'd had half a dozen or so naps through the day, each very short but massively helpful. Christine was pleased with his willingness to nap and encouraged it by not letting him have any coffee. McCoy was really craving a coffee.

 

He was browsing through the recent research papers from various people's careers he was following, waiting for something to jump out at him as interesting. He should probably write a recommendation up for Starfleet to include flora testing equipment for medical applications on all away missions, that would've been very helpful.

 

He just spotted an article detailing the latest study in Denobulan parasite treatment in various species when Spock walked in. McCoy quickly swiped the article aside to read later and looked up, smiling in greeting.

 

“How was your afternoon?” He asked.

 

“Seventy-eight separate crewmen visited ensign Chekov to confirm that we are dating,” Spock said. He nodded at McCoy and walked over to a corner of incomprehensible Vulcan crap. He took the lid off a container and used the damp cloth inside to quickly wipe his makeup off. 

 

“Seventy-eight? I had a fair few swing by sickbay for no apparent reason but to stare at me, but not anywhere near that number,” McCoy said in amusement. “Scotty wants to throw us a party, though.”

 

Spock looked over at him. “I would prefer to not endure that,” he said. He pulled off his blue shirt, picked McCoy's up from the floor and threw them both in the laundry shoot. 

 

McCoy hummed in agreement. “Neither, darlin’, but we may not have a say in the matter.” 

 

Spock toed his shoes off by the door, nudging them until they lay straight. McCoy noticed his shoes somewhat haphazardly flung in the general vicinity of the door and sighed. He had forgotten some of Spock's nitpicking habits.

 

Spock sat down next to him. “How is your injury progressing?” he asked.

 

“Very well, actually,” he said happily. “We did a few deep regen efforts today and it's doing damned well. The bandage is off, see?” He pulled his t shirt up, showing Spock his scattered scars. 

 

Spock reached out and fluttered his fingers across McCoy's skin, lightly tracing the multitude of white lines and marks. McCoy sat silently, letting Spock take his time. Spock seemed to be deep in thought, his eyebrows furrowed. His hand slowed and he rested his palm flat against McCoy's abdomen. 

 

“Does it hurt?” Spock breathed.

 

“Nah, I'm off all my meds and it doesn't hurt a pinch,” McCoy muttered. 

 

Spock leant forwards and kissed McCoy softly on the worst of his scars. McCoy raised his eyebrows in surprise, looking down at Spock. “Trying to kiss me better? Little late for that, I'm practically healed,” he teased. 

 

Spock quirked an eyebrow in response. “I am not sure exactly what my motivation was, no,” Spock said as he sat back on the couch.

 

McCoy grinned. “Well, I'm glad you're just following your instinct there,” he said. He leant forward and kissed Spock quickly on the lips. “Good instinct.”

 

Spock rolled his eyes and hummed doubtfully. 

 

McCoy scooched in closer, turning to face Spock fully. “Thanks for giving me access to your quarters,” he said quietly.

 

Spock gave him a small smile. “It was long overdue.”

 

McCoy's soft grin spread across his face. He leant over Spock, his hand resting on Spock's far thigh, and kissed him. Spock returned the kiss, and when it became apparent that McCoy wasn't intending just a quick peck he snuck a hand behind McCoy's head, tangling his fingers in with McCoy's hair.

 

McCoy hummed happily, enjoying the light make out. His neck started to hurt so he pulled back, stretching it out. Spock hid a smile poorly and McCoy glared at him. “Funny, am I?” he asked.

 

“Never,” Spock said quickly.

 

McCoy grinned and raised his eyebrows at Spock. He stood up and turned to face Spock, standing directly in front of him. Spock's eyebrows pinched together in confusion until McCoy began to kneel on the couch, either side of him. McCoy settled into place, straddling Spock happily, and ran his hands through Spock's hair. He swayed teasingly in place, letting his hips tilt to either side. He heard Spock gasp when his hip bone grazed his and he smirked, leaning back.

 

McCoy smiled down at Spock and leaned away from him. “So, any interesting space science today?” he asked casually.

 

Spock let out an amused rush of air and tugged McCoy in for a kiss instead of responding. McCoy chuckled in Spock's mouth and kissed him back, mildly surprised by how keen Spock was, his teeth nipping at McCoy's lips immediately.

 

Spock tugged McCoy's hips forwards so that they were pressed flush against each other. McCoy took this as an invitation to grind down on him and did so immediately, moaning as his hardening dick pressed against Spock's leg.

 

Spock's long fingers ran down his sides and found their way under his shirt, holding him tightly in place as he pushed his hips up to meet McCoy's efforts. McCoy gripped Spock's hair harshly for a moment then let go, loving how Spock's whole body tensed when McCoy clutched his hair. He did so a few more times, in time with rougher rolls of his hips and Spock was soon breathless.

 

McCoy slowly moved his hands down Spock's side, pausing to tug his ears and press against his neck. He leaned away slightly to make room for himself and dropped his hands to Spock's crotch, his fingertip tickling the top of Spock's waist band.

 

“May I?”

 

“Please,” Spock breathed.

 

McCoy grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Begging already, Spock?” he asked.

 

Spock's eyes flashed dangerously as he went from the overwhelmed and sweetened man McCoy had been getting some nice reactions out of to amused and mildly pissed off. “Hardly,” he said clearly.

 

“No?” McCoy asked innocently. He lifted his ass off Spock and slid his hand across Spock's abs to his pants, under his underwear, and gripped his dick, softly, teasingly stroking him. “So you're not desperate for more of me?” he whispered, letting his horniness show in his voice, tipping his head so that his lips were near Spock's ear. He started stroking Spock's dick harder.

 

Spock rested his head on McCoy's shoulder, his breathing erratic. McCoy could feel Spock struggling to keep his hips still, they would occasionally push back into his hand. “Leonard,” Spock breathed.

 

McCoy kissed Spock's ear, trailing his lips down to his neck. “What is it, darling?” he whispered, biting lightly on Spock's tendon.

 

Spock gasped, his hips pushing up. McCoy groaned in response, absurdly turned on by how physical Spock's reaction was. “I have not come while you were away,” Spock said quickly, between gasps.

 

McCoy slowed his strokes. “What, were you saving yourself?” he asked.

 

Spock shook his head. “No, I simply had no interest,” he said, his voice strained. “I thought I should inform you.” Spock had a blush forming on his cheeks that McCoy suspected was more due to embarrassment than sexual desire.

 

McCoy stared at Spock, his hand holding his dick, but still. McCoy hadn't come either, but that had been more due to physical injury than lack of wanting. And Spock had treated him like a prize possession in the shower the day before. “Damn, I've gotta treat you better than this,” he muttered,  kissing Spock's cheek quickly before pulling his hand out of Spock's pants.

 

Spock gasped loudly when McCoy stood up off him. His eyes were wide and openly confused, his lips flushed. “My intention was not to stop you,” he said. 

 

McCoy smiled and leant back in, resting his hands on the couch behind Spock's head. “My intention is not to stop,” he said. He kissed Spock slowly, deeply, not touching him elsewhere. Spock's hands crawled up his sides, slipping under his shirt and trying to softly pull him back down.

 

McCoy stood back again. He took a few steps backwards towards Spock's bed and crooked a finger at Spock. “Up you get, love,” he called.

 

Spock stood up quickly and walked over, catching up with McCoy in moments. “What are-”

 

McCoy interrupted him with a kiss, pulling him close, his hand raking down Spock's back. He stepped back and pulled Spock's shirt off quickly. Spock allowed his shirt to be removed then followed in McCoy's steps, coming close again and kissing him deeply. 

 

McCoy entertained Spock for a few seconds, kissing him back desperately, before stepping away again and pulling his own shirt off. Spock followed him and kissed him again, drawing their chests flush. McCoy ran his finger through Spock's hair, enjoying the silky texture. They held each other close, pressing their skin together and kissing passionately. 

 

McCoy took another step back, removing himself from Spock's grip. He held a finger up to a flushed and focused Spock and reached forward, maintaining eye contact to warn Spock from moving. He tucked his thumbs under Spock's waistband and pulled his pants and underwear down together. He followed the motion to continuation, kneeling as he pushed Spock's pants to his ankles. He looked away from Spock's desperate expression to study his dick. Fully extended, green, and wet. McCoy wanted it. He smiled and glanced back up at Spock, raising an eyebrow in question. Spock nodded.

 

McCoy tipped forward immediately and ran his tongue up the length of Spock's dick. He had missed that taste. He wrapped his lips around Spock's tip and sucked, glancing up to see Spock's open mouthed, amazed expression. McCoy pushed his head closer to Spock, letting himself take it slowly. He was in no rush to deepthroat him, and it had been a few weeks since his last go.

 

Spock's dick hit the back of his throat and McCoy held him there, moving his tongue slowly but forcefully along the ridges. When he felt like breathing he pushed in slightly further, gagging for a moment, before pulling off for air. Moments later he was back on, sucking Spock's tip hard for a beat before pushing himself further. After a few repeated efforts his lips hit Spock's last ridge he moaned, the accomplishment hitting him like sexual satisfaction. 

 

He pulled off and looked up at Spock, curious to see how he was faring. Spock had two finger over his mouth, pressing hard against his lips to keep himself quiet. He was flushed with bright eyes and green ears. McCoy grinned lazily, enjoying the flattering picture.

 

He dove quickly back onto Spock's cock, confident now he could take him comfortably and began bobbing his head. On his third forceful push of Spock's dick down his throat in as many seconds he heard Spock groan quietly. McCoy tightened his grip on Spock's hips, feeling his own dick swell in response to the hardness in his throat. He held Spock deep in his throat for a moment and moaned. Spock's hand flew to his hair, fluttering on top of his head, not wanting to force his movement. 

 

McCoy kept moving his mouth back and forth over Spock's dick, feeling the movement roll through his body and turn him on more. Spock was breathing loudly, his hand resting on McCoy's head to help stabalise him. McCoy moaned again, still moving. He didn't quite know why he loved giving head so much, but he absolutely did. He could feel his dick straining against his pants fabric.

 

McCoy pulled himself off Spock, gasping for breath. He looked up, mouth still open, saliva trailing back to Spock's dick. Spock's fingers had curled into his mouth and were pressing against the back of his teeth. He was breathing heavily, his pupils blown wide.

 

“Bed, get in bed,” McCoy said, unsurprised by how deep his voice sounded. He stood up and pushed Spock towards the bed, taking a moment to rid himself of his pants before turning around to join him. 

 

Spock was settling into place, laying on his back, propped up by an elbow as he watched McCoy. McCoy knelt knelt beside him and ran a slow hand down his chest, following the trail of hair to his dick. His fingers flitted around Spock's dick briefly before continuing down to his asshole, pressing lightly. 

 

“This ok?” McCoy muttered. Spock keened quietly, pressing his body down against McCoy's fingers. McCoy was happy to take that as confirmation. He leaned across Spock to the box with the lube in it, absentmindedly stroking Spock's dick while he did. 

 

Once he had the lube open he moved around to sit between Spock's legs and got his fingers slick. He leaned forward to kiss Spock quickly, then sat up, grinning at him. He flung one of Spock's legs over his shoulder and starting rubbing small tight circles around Spock's hole.

 

Spock sighed loudly and arched off the bed, his hands gripping at the sheets. McCoy hummed happily, watching Spock as he steadily got a hold of his reaction and calmed down, eventually returning his gaze. Once Spock had regained control over himself McCoy leant forward, pushing Spock's leg up and slipped a finger inside Spock. 

 

Spock groaned through clenched teeth, closing his eyes. McCoy paused one knuckle in and watched Spock closely. “Breath, darling,” McCoy whispered. Spock breathed in steadily, opening his eyes. His pupils were blown wide open, seemingly larger than his irises ever were. McCoy pushed his finger in slowly to his last knuckle, giving Spock a moment to get accustomed before curling around to brush his prostate. 

 

Spock choked out a cry. McCoy pushed down on his leg, pressing it against his chest and kissed Spock deeply. He curled his finger inside Spock again, grazing his prostate mercilessly. 

 

“This yoga of yours is paying off, Spock,” McCoy muttered, pushing Spock's leg back again meaningfully.

 

“Not yoga,” Spock muttered. “Kheile’a-tedvunik.” 

 

McCoy breathed out a laugh and shook his head. “Yeah, that's what I meant,” he said, softly sarcastic.

 

“If you knew the term, then you sh-” Spock trailed off as McCoy got exasperated and bit his nipple while pressing the edge of a curled finger against Spock's ass, still stroking his prostate inside.

 

McCoy hummed happily at Spock's silence. He straightened his body, watching Spock's expression, and pulled his finger out. Slowly, he pushed two fingers into Spock, pausing when Spock twitched or gasped. Once he was up to his last knuckle he rolled his hips, pushing his hand against Spock and his finger deeper. He followed through the roll, pressing against Spock's leg in a wave until he kissed him. 

 

He rolled his hips again, curling his finger as he did and moaning as if he were fucking Spock. Spock suddenly gasped for air in short bursts, his hand clenching at the sheets. McCoy pushed Spock's leg off his shoulder and over to the side and lay flat across Spock. He kept his fingers moving inside Spock, curling and pulsing and scissoring as he ground his dick against Spock's and exaggerated his own moans. McCoy kissed Spock deeply and quickly, leaving the kiss before Spock wanted him to and watched Spock gasp and search for him. He did so again and again, kissing Spock as he went to breath in, adding a third finger and rolling his hips as if he were fucking Spock himself, not just frotting against him. McCoy moaned into the kiss, sounding desperate for more, before pulling back once Spock began to kiss him back. Spock whimpered, his chest heaving, not getting quite as much oxygen as he could or quite as much McCoy as he wanted.

 

McCoy sat up slightly, pulling his right leg up to kneel on and changed the angle of his three fingers in Spock. He kept his fingers wriggling softly, teasing Spock as he rested his spare hand on Spock's upper chest and held him down. From where he was sitting McCoy realised he could reach Spock's dick very easily. He leant down immediately and forced as much of Spock's dick down his throat as he could take from his slightly awkward angle. At the same time he curled his fingers inside Spock the straightened them, moving to fuck him roughly. Instead of leaning on his hand on Spock's chest he felt his fingers curl and scratch Spock's skin as he tried to stay balanced. McCoy sucked hard on Spock's dick, only able to reach about half of him, and licked around his tip repeatedly. He kept fucking Spock with his fingers, not letting up the pace. One of Spock's hands scrabbled at his hand on Spock's chest. McCoy could feel Spock writhing underneath him. 

 

“Leonard,” Spock gasped. “A’le sanoi, Leonard. I am close.” 

 

McCoy pushed off Spock's chest, forcing himself entirely onto Spock's cock. He clutched at Spock's hip tightly, holding him still. He managed to slip the tip of his pinky finger in Spock's ass when Spock spasmed, forcing his dick entirely into McCoy's mouth. McCoy could hear nothing but the beating of his heart as his blood rushed past his ears. He felt Spock's muscles tense around his fingers and Spock was coming down his throat. McCoy swallowed automatically then slowly lifted himself off, generously licking Spock as he did. He could hear Spock's stuttered breathing from his ministrations.

 

McCoy sat back and gasped some air down. He let his fingers slide out of Spock and finally looked up at Spock's expression. His hair was everywhere and his eyes were wide, his pupils large and glittering. McCoy pressed his hand against Spock's ass and watched, enthralled, as Spock moaned quietly in response. 

 

“You're too damn much,” McCoy muttered. He quickly rearranged to lie next to Spock, resting mostly on top of him. 

 

Spock turned and pulled McCoy in towards him, holding him close. “I want more of you, Leonard,” Spock whispered.

 

McCoy let out a strained laugh. “Ain’t gonna be a problem for me, darlin’,” he said happily. He rolled over on top of Spock and lined his dick up at Spock's asshole. “You're good?” he checked.

 

Spock ran his hands up McCoy's arms and to his hair, filtering his fingers through his locks. “Yes,” he muttered. McCoy pushed in slowly, forcing his eyes to stay open despite the bliss he felt so that he could watch Spock's open mouthed, amazed expression.

 

McCoy lost count of how many times he made Spock come that night. He himself came twice, but Spock was held back by no such human constraints. He was able to orgasm time and time again long past the ability to ejaculate. Spock had finally asked him to stop after McCoy's tongue up his ass had forced him into an uncontrollable shivering mess. McCoy had proudly sat back, turning to hold Spock still and calm his mind.

 

“Ashayam,” Spock whispered, after a few minutes of silence, his hand resting in McCoy's hair.

 

McCoy hummed in response, leaving his eyes shut.

 

“Jim asked me something...” Spock trailed off briefly, searching for the word. “Troubling today.”

 

“What's that, then?” McCoy mumbled.

 

He felt Spock shift to look at him. “I can mention it later if you wish to sleep, pla-kur,” Spock said.

 

“No, no, I'm up,” McCoy groaned. He cracked an eye open and looked down at Spock. He saw Spock swallow a smile.

 

“Very well, then,” Spock said. “Jim expressed a desire to have you on the next away mission, in an effort to  _get it done like a bandaid_ .”

 

McCoy chuckled at how Spock's tone twisted the colloquialism while he processed his comment. “What's the next mission?” he asked.

 

Spock took a slow breath before he answered. “NNK053 - 6. It's a class M planet around the star Nunki, a part of your Sagittarius constellation. There have been multiple visits to this planet and it is considered peaceful with no intelligent life that we can identify. The mission brief is extremely basic, there is a type of fungi in the trees that appears to have morphic properties and Starfleet want more to test.”

 

McCoy nodded. “So it's a smash and grab?” he asked. 

 

“Hardly,” Spock said. “It is not without risk, Leonard.”

 

“Where's the risk in that? Sounds like a perfect bandaid planet for me.”

 

Spock went quiet for a minute and considered McCoy's words. McCoy settled back down, leaning against the wall and began to consider booking in a session with M’Benga to discuss and remaining issues and dealing methods. 

 

“I shall ask Jim to postpone your first return mission,” Spock said decidedly.

 

“What?” McCoy turned around. “No, that's not what I said.”

 

“No?” Spock asked innocently. 

 

McCoy laughed. ‘I'll talk to Jim myself, thank you, Spock,” McCoy said. 

 

Spock breathed out sharply, but let the matter drop. McCoy fell asleep soon after with Spock in his arms. When he woke Spock was meditating in the corner and McCoy smiled at the familiar sight, rolling around to go back to sleep.

  
  
  
\----------  
  
  
  
  


McCoy felt himself resolidify on the transporter. He spun around, confused, and saw Spock watching him from the next transport spot over.

 

“What the fuck is this, Spock?” he yelled.

 

Spock raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

 

McCoy threw his arms wide open, his fury evident in his stance. “You had no business pulling me back here, I should be down there helping find plants, dammit!”

 

“You were out of sight, we agreed that-”

 

“Hell with what we agreed,” McCoy interrupted, “I was in ear range and perfectly safe, there's nothing dangerous down there!”

 

“We do not know that,” Spock said tensely.

 

“We do know that,” McCoy groaned. He turned away from Spock, taking a moment. He spun back. “The rest of the team is still there collectin-”

 

“You promised to stay within my line of sight and you did not,” Spock said over the top of him. Spock walked angrily towards him and leant close, lowering his voice. “I behaved appropriately.”

 

“Like hell you did!” McCoy spat, not bother to match Spock's lowered tone. “You beamed me out without a second’s thought.”

 

McCoy walked away from Spock and stepped confidently onto a transporter spot. “Scotty, send me back,” he ordered, glaring at Spock. 

 

“Doctor,” Spock said, sounding exasperated.

 

“Spock,” McCoy echoed, not looking at him.

 

Spock followed McCoy and pulled him around, grabbing McCoy's arm and pushing him against the wall, placing his body in the way of Scotty and the curious crewmen’s gaze. “You will not return there now,” he whispered.

 

“Why the hell not? I'm perfectly fine,” McCoy whispered.

 

Spock stared at him silently.

 

“You - Spock - I cannot be responsible for you right now! You need to sort out your shit, I'm busy with my own!” McCoy hissed at him. Spock stayed silent, his expression serious. “Book an appointment with Jabilo if you're having such a rough time, dammit,” McCoy suggested 

 

“Leonard…”

 

“I'm getting back on that transporter,” McCoy said, ducking his head to force Spock to meet his eyes. “Ok?” he asked, his tone leaving no room for Spock to disagree. 

 

Spock nodded and McCoy pushed him off lightly, walking quickly past him.

 

“Scotty, one to bea-”

 

“Two to beam down, Mr. Scott, thank you,” Spock interrupted.

 

McCoy glared at Spock, who looked calmly back at him. Fine, he could come along if he insisted on it. McCoy would damned well make sure he knew he was unwelcome. 

 

McCoy saw Scotty watching them uncomfortably, unsure who to obey. Spock was commanding officer, but Scotty had missed McCoy and had been abnormally kind to him since his return. McCoy glanced back over at Spock and sighed, his defeated stance mildly upsetting McCoy. 

 

McCoy held a finger up at Scotty and walked over to Spock. Spock turned and faced him, standing formally. 

 

McCoy ran a hand up Spock's arm, his neck and through his hair. He sighed again as Spock leaned into his hand. “I'll stay within sight of someone at all times. Not necessarily you, but someone. Alright?” 

 

“Very well,” Spock breathed out. He looked up, meeting McCoy's gaze. “Yes,” he said with more certainty.

 

McCoy nodded and leaned in quickly to kiss Spock. Spock allowed the peck but did not return it and McCoy walked back to his transport spot a moment later.

 

“Alright, Scotty, let the beast do it's worst,” McCoy said, crossing his arms.

 

The beam out noise began to sound and any calm McCoy had regained swiftly disappeared as he felt his pulse quicken and his head feel dizzy with fear.

 

\----------

 

Seven figures shimmered into view. 

 

“All’s well aboard, Captain,” Scotty said as they finished rematerializing. McCoy ran his hands up and down his body, assuring himself he was in one piece.

 

“Thank you, Scotty. Mr. Sulu, you're welcome to take the plant samples to the botany rooms,” Jim said as he stepped down. Spock followed him and strolled over to the transporter to confirm the status of the ship.

 

“Yessir,” Sulu replied. He jogged happily over to Scotty and called for added assistance, they had collected quite the quantity of fungus and a few screaming reeds Sulu had insisted on not returning without.

 

“No need to rush back,” Jim said with a generous smile. Sulu grinned at him and nodded his thanks. 

 

Everyone else had left the transporter, except for Ensign Yollen, so McCoy trotted off quickly. He passed Jim and clapped him on the back, keen to get to med bay and away from this machine.

 

“Bones,” Jim called, “You alright?”

 

Bones hummed curiously, turning to face him. He saw Jim's concerned gaze and grew confused. “What's wrong?” he asked.

 

Jim pointed at his forehead. “You got a cut or something,” he said. McCoy felt his forehead and his hand came away sticky. Before he could look any closer Spock was in front of him, having spun around and walked quickly over to him, studying his wound immediately. McCoy rolled his eyes, giving Jim an unimpressed look. 

 

McCoy waited patiently, only tapping his foot in mild passive aggression, while Spock touched his forehead. He wasn't hurting or anything, which could mean a very minor wound, or that whatever cut him had a numbing agent, or-

 

“You are not injured,” Spock said, stepping back.

 

“What?” McCoy felt his head again and this time had the time to look at the substance that came off. “Sap?” he asked.

 

Spock nodded. “I expect so. We should get you checked, but I think a tree simply dripped on you as we left.”

 

McCoy hummed again, grumbling to himself about alien plants as he rubbed his forehead clean as best he could. 

 

“I'll come see you soon, Jim,” McCoy said as he turned to leave. “Mr. Sulu, swing by medbay in the next hour for safety’s sake, alright?” he called out. 

 

“You got it, Doctor,” Sulu replied. 

 

McCoy waved everyone else along with him and led them down the hallway, feeling ridiculously like the Pied Piper.

 

He glanced back at Spock and held his hand out for him. Spock hesitated a moment then took his hand, catching up with him in a few longer strides. McCoy actively ignored the three ensigns following them, focusing on the fact that his relationship was public knowledge, so they really shouldn't be surprised, and that Spock had gotten ahold of himself quite well the second time they'd gone to the planet, so he deserved a thank you. 

 

He checked Spock for injuries or infection first when they got back to medbay, clearing him quickly and sending him to the Bridge with orders to get Jim to come down for his own check up. He knew full well Jim wouldn't, McCoy had long since accepted performing checks on Jim in the Captain's seat. 

 

Once Spock had left, McCoy turned to tackle the other ensigns, to find that his medical team were well worth their pay. Christine had already seen to one of them, and was dealing with another, a woman who had managed to fall into a bush and actually needed some tending to. McCoy ran his scanner over the last man and sent him off within two minutes. 

 

Christine's ensign was sent off with a sympathetic smile and she turned to McCoy, eyebrow raised.

 

“Well, that was efficient!” McCoy said happily.

 

“And where is Mr. Sulu and the Captain?” Christine asked. 

 

McCoy picked up his tricorder. “I'm off to see Jim now, Sulu should be around in the next hour or so. I'll chase him down if needs be,” he said. “You don't need anything from me here?”

 

Christine shook her head. “You didn't miss much while you were on the planet. How was it?”

 

McCoy nodded. “Not fun, but I'm managing. I'm gonna go keep myself busy,” he said, nodding his head in the general direction of the Bridge. 

 

Christine waved him off and strolled back to her office.

 

McCoy walked off to the Bridge quite happily. This was all very comfortable and familiar. Unpleasant away mission, medical checks, chasing down Jim. He'd even had a fight with Spock today! Without noticing when, he had begun to leave Kaneeta behind, the worst of it had passed.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gonna do an epilogue after this and then that's it! Hella!

**Author's Note:**

> Okay okay okay! I have spent fucking ages on this and I've written the first four chapters, and partially written the next four, with the last two or so chapters planned - so stay tuned! 
> 
> I'm asking for just a little suspension of disbelief in regards to the electromagnetic shit storm I keep mentioning. Just roll with it. Cheers.


End file.
